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V 


WINDYHAUGH 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  GRAHAM  TRAVERS. 

Each,  i2mo,  paper,  50  cents ;  cloth,  $1.00. 


Mona  Maclean,  Medical  Student. 

"A  high-bred  comedy." — New  York  Times. 

44  'Mona  Maclean'  is  a  bright,  healthful,  winning  story." — 
New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

44  Mona  is  a  very  attractive  person,  and  her  story  is  decidedly 
well  told." — San  Francisco  Argonaut. 

"A  pleasure  in  store  for  you  if  you  have  not  read  this  vol- 
ume. The  author  has  given  us  a  thoroughly  natural  series  of 
events,  and  drawn  her  characters  like  an  artist.  It  is  the  story 
of  a  woman's  struggles  with  her  own  soul.  She  is  a  woman  of 
resource,  a  strong  woman,  and  her  career  is  interesting  from 
beginning  to  end." — New  York  Herald. 

"  The  cleverest  novel  we  have  read  for  a  long  time,  and  yet 
it  is  thoroughly  enjoyable  as  well.  .  .  .  The  more  charming  in 
virtue  of  the  fact  that  its  simple  entertaining  quality  does  not 
exclude  a  certain  fine  seriousness  of  intent  which  gives  it  an  in- 
tellectual and  moral  as  well  as  a  merely  narrative  or  dramatic 
interest." — London  Spectator. 


Fellow  Travellers* 

"The  stories  are  well  told;  the  literary  style  is  above  the 
average,  and  the  character  drawing  is  to  be  particularly  praised. 
.  .  .  Altogether,  the  little  book  is  a  model  of  its  kind,  and  its 
reading  will  give  pleasure  to  people  of  taste." — Boston  Satur- 
day Evening  Gazette. 

4 ' '  Fellow  Travellers '  is  a  collection  of  very  brightly  written 
tales,  all  dealing,  as  the  title  implies,  with  the  mutual  relations 
of  people  thrown  together  casually  while  traveling." — London 
Saturday  Review. 

"Miss  Travers  interests  us  in  her  characters  directly  she 
shows  them  to  us ;  the  interest  enhances  all  through,  and  the 
curtain  drops  before  we  are  in  the  least  danger  of  being  bored 
by  them.  .  .  .  Her  literary  style  has  improved,  her  psychologic 
insight  has  sharpened." — London  Daily  Chronicle. 


D.  APPLETON   &  CO.,  NEW  YORK. 


WINDYHAUGH 

A  Novel 


BY 
GRAHAM    TRAVERS 

(MARGARET   G.  TODD,  M.D.) 

Author  of  Mona  Maclean,  Medical  Student, 
Fellow  Travellers,  Etc. 


NEW    YORK 
D.    APPLETON   AND  COMPANY 

1899 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


4>S 

3539 


V)5 


CONTENTS. 


PART  I. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — ON  THE   SUGAR-BARREL            .           .           ..          .           .  1 

II. — WlNDYHAUGH .  4 

III. — A   NEW   DIMENSION .11 

IV. — LIFE  WIDENS  OUT 19 

V. — IN  THE  GROCER'S  PARLOUR 27 

VI. — THE  PROCESS  OF  WINNING  ONE'S  SPURS       .        .  34 

VII. — AT  THE  COSMOPOLIS 41 

VIII. — MADEMOISELLE      .        ..-*'.        .        .  50 

IX. — A   NEW   REGIME         ...          ,           .           .           .  61 

X.— FOG 66 

XI. — A   BOLT   FROM   THE   BLUE          .           ...           .  73 

XII. — TEA  AT  RUMPELMAYER'S 78 

XIII. — THE  LORD  WRITES  FINIS 87 

XIV. — MEETING  AND  PARTING 91 

XV.— TRAILS  OF  SMILAX 96 

PART  II. 

XVI. — THE  OLD  PROBLEM 106 

XVII.— MR.  CARMICHAEL 113 

XVIII. — ROUNDS  BY  WHICH  WE  MAY  ASCEND    .        .        .  123 

XIX.— THE  INGLE  NEUK 132 

XX.— A  RESCUE 137 

XXI. — THE   FAIRY   GODMOTHER 142 

XXII. — TWO   WORLDS    MEET 150 

XXIII.— REQUIESCAT 160 

XXIV. — A   NEW   DEVELOPMENT 162 

XXV. — LOOKING  FORWARD 168 

XXVI. — A  TRANSFORMATION 174 

XXVII. — GLAMOUR  AND  ISOLDE 179 

XXVIII. — WlLHELMINA   FINDS   A   KINGDOM     ....  193 

V 


vi  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIX. — ON   THE   SEA-SHORE 198 

XXX. — A   LOST    OPPORTUNITY 204 

XXXI. — BROTHER  AND  SISTER        .        .        .        .        .215 

XXXII.— A   SUNNY   DAY 219 

XXXIII.—"  LOVE  AND  LIFE  " 230 

XXXIV.— REACTION 238 

XXXV.— THE  LADY  OF  LYONS         .        .        ...  242 

XXXVI. — THE  CHAINS  ARE  RIVETTED       .  -    .        .        .  247 

XXXVII. — LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM        .        .       .       .       .  253 

XXXVIII.— WEDDING  GIFTS  .        .        .        .        .        .        .257 

XXXIX.— AT  THE  PINES    .        .        .        ......  ,.        .  261 

XL. — THE   LIGHT   THAT   FAILED    .           .           f           •           •  ^64 

XLI. — THE   LIGHT  THAT   ENDURED           .           .           .           .  272 

PART  III. 

XLII. — PICKING  UP  THE  PIECES 276 

XLIII. — A   FRIEND   IN   NEED       ...           .           .            .  281 

XLIV. — NEW  FRIENDS   AND   OLD 288 

XLV.— BY  THEIR  FRUITS 296 

XLVI.— HARLEY  BRENTWOOD 302 

XLVII. — WILHELMINA'S  DREAM        .        .        .        .        .  313 

XLVIII.— SEEKING 324 

XLIX. — AN  ORDINATION 329 

L. — RETURNING  LIFE         .        .        .        .        .        .  339 

LI. — BEATRICE  CENCI 345 

LII. — THE  INTERVIEW  .        .        .        .        .        .        .  354 

LIII. — L'HOMME  PROPOSE 363 

LIV. — THE   SKELETON   IN   THE   CUPBOARD       .           .           .  373 

LV. — THE   SKELETON   BY   THE    FIRESIDE          .            .            .  382 

LVI. — THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  ....  388 

LVII.— WRESTLING 395 

LVIII. — BRENTWOOD'S  RETURN 400 

LIX. — AFTER  LONG  GRIEF  AND  PAIN  ....  407 

LX. — THE  CYCLE  is  COMPLETE    .                               .  414 


WINDYHAUGH 

PARTI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON   THE   SUGAR-BARREL. 

THROUGH  the  narrow  doorway  of  the  grocer's  shop  a 
great  barrel  of  Jamaica  sugar  had  just  been  carefully 
steered,  and  now  seven-year-old  Wilhelmina  was  perched 
on  the  top  of  it,  in  earnest  conversation  with  the  grocer. 

A  pair  of  chubby  sunburnt  legs  drummed  nervously 
now  and  then  against  the  side  of  the  cask,  and  an  ill- 
used  sun-bonnet  had  been  carelessly  pushed  back,  reveal- 
ing a  chubby  serious  face. 

"For  you  see,  Mr.  Darsie,"  the  child  was  saying, 
"  p'raps  I'm  even — not — one  of  the  elect." 

A  smile  of  keen  amusement  puckered  up  the  grocer's 
queer  old  face,  concealing  for  a  moment  the  shrewd  grey 
eyes. 

"  I'm  no'  feared  o'  ye,  Miss  Mina." 

She  looked  up  hopefully,  but  her  face  clouded  over 
again  before  she  spoke. 

"You  can't  tell.     Nobody  can." 

The  hot  little  hands  tugged  at  each  other  strenuously 
for  a  second  or  two,  and  then  the  child  continued,  with 
the  air  of  one  who,  at  great  personal  cost,  contributes 
an  all-important  factor  to  a  discussion — 

"  I  s'pose  you  know  I'm  not  saved  ?  " 

He  picked  up  a  fine  kidney  potato  from  a  creel  that 
stood  by  the  door,  surveyed  it  carefully,  and  then  tossed 
it  back  to  its  brethren. 

"And  what  for  no'?" 

She  shook  her  head  sadly. 

1 


2  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  I  don't  seem  able  to  believe  somehow.  I  try  an* 
try,  and  sometimes  I  think  I've  done  it.  But  it's  110 
use;  I  don't  believe  a  bit.  I  s'pose  you're  saved,  Mr. 
Darsie  ?  "  She  paused,  and  then  went  on  suddenly  in  a 
tone  of  half -envious  disappointment — "  Oh,  of  course — 
I  forgot — you're  an  elder,  so  you  must  be  saved." 

"  It's  to  be  hopit  so,  Missie." 

"  And  did  you  ever  find  it  difficult  to  believe  ?  " 

How  differently  the  lines  in  a  human  face  affect  us 
at  different  times!  As  a  rule  those  countless  folds  and 
pencillings  were  suggestive  mainly  of  a  hard  and  miserly 
disposition;  but  now  they  seemed  with  one  accord  to 
lend  the  old  man's  face  a  very  pleasing  air  of  wisdom 
and  tolerance. 

"  That  did  I ! "  he  answered  heartily ;  and  he  added 
to  himself,  with  a  queer  little  smile  that  was  not  meant 
for  his  visitor,  "  An'  no'  sae  lang  syne  neither." 

He  swept  up  a  few  stray  tea-leaves  from  the  counter 
with  his  time-chiselled  hands,  and  carefully  deposited 
them  in  a  great  canister  near  the  window. 

"  Dinna  pit  yersel'  aboot,  Missie,"  he  said  in  a  fa- 
therly voice.  "  If  ye  werena  ane  o'  the  elect,  I'm  think- 
ing the  Lord  wadna  let  ye  fash  yersel' — a  wee  bit  bairnie 
like  you ! " 

This  was  cheering;  but,  from  the  standpoint  of  the- 
ology, it  struck  the  well-taught  child  as  flabby. 

"  Will  you  please  help  me  down,  Mr.  Darsie  ? "  she 
said.  "  I  think  I  see  Nurse  coming  back  for  me." 
Then,  as  for  the  moment  her  lips  came  on  a  level  with 
his  ear,  she  whispered,  "  You  won't  tell  her  what  we 
were  saying  ? " 

"  Na,  na,  Missie,  that's  between  you  and  me." 

She  nodded.  "Nurse  would  only  laugh,"  she  said. 
"  She  wouldn't  understand,  and  I  believe  she'd  go  and 
tell." 

She  went  to  the  door,  stopped  to  pull  up  her  socks, 
and  then  looked  back  wistfully. 

"  I'm — going,  Mr.  Darsie,"  she  said.     "  Good-bye." 

He  chuckled,  and,  taking  from  the  shelf  a  large  glass 
jar,  slowly  extracted  from  it  two  sugared  almonds.  He 
surveyed  them  doubtfully  for  a  moment,  then  dropped 


ON  THE  SUGAR-BARREL.  3 

one  back  into  the  jar,  and  held  out  the  other  to  the 
child. 

Wilhelmina  made  a  wild  search  for  her  pocket,  but 
wisely  relinquished  it  in  time,  and  a  moment  "later  the 
young  nurse  arrived,  looking  hurried  and  guilty,  to  find 
an  innocent,  uncomplaining  child  awaiting  her  on  the 
doorstep. 

For  a  minute  or  two  they  walked  on  in  silence. 

"Were  you  wearying?"  asked  Nurse  tentatively  at  last. 

The  child  shook  her  head.  Her  thoughts  at  the  mo- 
ment were  pretty  equally  divided  between  the  chances 
of  her  own  election,  and  the  almond  cruelly  dissolving 
in  her  hot  little  hand. 

Then  she  suddenly  awoke  to  the  significance  of  the 
situation.  "  You  were  a  very  long  time,"  she  said  with 
gentle  emphasis. 

The  young  woman  frowned  and  laughed,  and  pro- 
duced a  couple  of  sweet  biscuits  from  a  paper  bag. 

"  There !  "  she  said  coaxingly.  "  Don't  say  a  word 
to  your  Grannie !  " 

Wilhelmina  would  not  have  said  a  word  in  any  case. 
She  was  not  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  her  grandmother, 
and  she  was  devotedly  attached  to  poor  faulty  nurse. 
Moreover  she  had  no  wish  to  forego  her  rare  visits  to 
the  grocer;  but  when  a  douceur  was  to  be  had  so  easily 
as  that,  it  would  be  a  pity  not  to  secure  it. 

Five  minutes  later  they  were  out  on  the  open  coun- 
try road,  with  a  cloudless  blue  sky  overhead,  and  a  faint 
breath  of  air  on  their  heated  faces.  Wilhelmina  was 
free  now  to  dance  ahead  or  to  lag  behind  as  the  impulse 
moved  her. 

Little  by  little  the  thought  of  her  soul  dropped  away, 
and  she  lapsed  unreservedly  into  the  healthy  animal. 
She  munched  her  biscuit,  stowed  away  the  grimy  sugar- 
plum for  future  consumption,  switched  the  heads  off  the 
wild  flowers  as  she  bounded  on  her  way,  and  finally 
burst  into  blithe  unconscious  song — 

"I  thank  the  goodness  and  the  grace 

That  on  my  birth  have  smiled, 
And  made  me  in  these  latter  days 
A  happy  Christian  child." 


WINDYHAUGH. 


CHAPTEK  II. 

WINDYHAUGH.* 

THE  discerning  reader  scarcely  needs  to  be  told  that 
Wilhelmina  lived  alone  with  her  grandmother. 

And  their  home  was  a  quaint  old  place,  almost 
worthy  of  a  visit  for  its  own  sake  in  these  days  of  ar- 
tistic villas.  The  sun  and  storm  of  a  century  or  two 
had  called  forth  no  mellow  colouring  in  the  massive 
iron-grey  walls;  but  here  and  there  a  yellow  lichen  had 
woven  its  dainty  web,  and  ivy  and  old-fashioned  roses 
clambered  about  at  will,  concealing  as  best  they  could 
the  cold  neutral  tints  of  the  stone. 

A  straggling  tangled  old  shrubbery  flanked  the  house 
on  the  right,  and  in  front  the  close-mown  lawn  was  shel- 
tered from  the  road  by  a  little  plantation  of  lime  trees. 
Very  cool  and  inviting  these  looked  to  the  dusty  way- 
farer when  the  sunlight  streamed  through  the  boughs, 
and  the  shadows  played  on  the  lawn;  but  in  cloud  or 
storm  their  shade  amounted  to  gloom,  and  a  sense  of 
mystery,  of  a  haunting  "  beyond,"  hung  over  the  whole 
place. 

They  never  seemed  to  be  at  rest,  those  trees,  and  the 
sweeping  sough  through  their  branches  was  never  still; 
for  the  house  stood  high  on  a  terrace  above  a  great  arm 
of  the  sea ;  and  night  after  night  Wilhelmina  was  lulled 
to  sleep  by  the  murmur  of  wind  and  wave,  or  startled 
into  wakefulness  by  their  fury. 

Ah,  yes,  it  had  its  moods,  that  quaint  old  homestead 
of  Windyhaugh.  It  could  look  grim  enough  at  times — 
grim  as  the  rows  of  leather-bound  divines  in  the  library ; 
but  to-day,  when  we  visit  it  first,  the  whole  place  is 
flooded  with  sunshine,  the  very  shrubbery  is  robbed  of 
its  spells,  and  all  things,  indoors  and  out,  look  as  bright 
and  peaceful  as  the  great  bowl  of  old-fashioned  roses 
in  the  hall. 

You  would  like,  I  am  sure,  to  see  the  home  of  those 

*  Pronounced  Windyhaw. 


WINDYHAUGH.  5 

roses;  and  indeed  the  high-walled  garden  that  lies  to 
the  left  of  the  house  is  the  one  part  of  the  whole  domain 
that  can  rarely  be  brought  to  share  the  gloomy  moods 
of  the  rest.  To-day  it  lies  half  asleep  in  a  haze  of  sun- 
shine and  hum  of  bees,  breathing  out  the  delicious  fra- 
grance of  old-world  flowers.  The  crisp  brown  shoots 
and  crimson  blooms  of  the  roses  stand  out  vividly 
against  the  sunny  blue  water  down  below,  and  the  fruit  is 
ripening  almost  visibly  on  the  ruddy  brick  walls.  Each 
wall  is  curved  to  meet  the  full  glow  of  the  sun,  and  so 
the  long  strip  of  flowering  land  is  divided  into  a  series 
of  gardens  linked  each  to  each  by  an  archway  of  nod- 
ding roses. 

The  weeds,  to  be  sure,  have  made  rather  more  head- 
way than  one  might  wish.  Grannie  pays  the  old  job- 
bing gardener  some  ten  pounds  a  year,  and  trusts  to  his 
honour  to  give  the  garden  a  fair  equivalent  of  atten- 
tion; but  she  often  has  reason  to  complain  of  her  share 
of  the  bargain.  The  crafty  old  man  is  well  aware  that 
he  has  a  monopoly;  for  what  newcomer  could  possibly 
know  the  capability  and  constitution  of  the  gardens  as 
he  does  ?  "  I'll  be  round  i'  the  tail  o'  the  week,"  he  says 
evasively  when  his  employers  waylay  him  with  re- 
proaches on  the  road;  and  so  by  degrees  he  has  come  to 
be  known  by  the  name  of  "  Tail-o'-the-week." 

Grannie  is  out  in  the  garden  herself  to-day,  in  her 
spotless  white  cap  and  second  best  silk  gown,  gathering 
the  first  luscious  coral-pink  strawberries  in  a  fresh  green 
cabbage-leaf,  for  the  delectation  of  a  favoured  visitor. 

Let  us  follow  her  into  the  house,  and  watch  her  pour 
the  fragrant  tea  into  those  dainty  shallow  cups. 

The  visitor  is  no  less  a  person  than  the  parish  min- 
ister, and  Grannie  is  particularly  glad  to  see  him,  though 
she  has  maintained  all  along  that  the  patrons  have  in- 
curred a  grave  responsibility  in  electing  one  so  young. 
She  is  not  susceptible  to  the  breeziness  of  thought  and 
expression  which  many  of  the  congregation  have  found 
so  refreshing.  Just  as  her  physical  frame  is  supported 
now-a-days  by  a  mere  bite  and  sup,  so  did  her  spiritual 
nature  find  food  enough  and  to  spare  in  the  lengthy 
doctrinal  dissertations  of  the  former  pastor.  However 


6  WINDYHAUGH. 

she  cannot  deny  that  the  young  man's  teaching  is  sound, 
and  to-day  she  is  fain  to  appeal  to  him  for  help  and 
sympathy. 

"  Of  course  the  Lord  knows  His  own  business  best," 
she  is  saying  with  troubled  face,  "  and  I  didn't  invite 
the  laddies  to  please  myself;  but  it  does  seem  an  awful 
pity  they  should  have  come  just  now." 

The  kindly  face  beneath  the  broad  brows  broke  into 
a  smile. 

"  I  wouldn't  trouble  about  that,  my  good  friend. 
The  Lord  knows  His  own  business  best,  as  you  say,  and 
He  doesn't  need  us  to  put  his  saplings  into  the  forcing- 
house.  Wilhelmina  is  thrown  quite  enough  with  grown 
people.  I  was  delighted  to  see  her  romping  with  her 
cousins  in  the  hay.  What  fine  little  fellows  they  are !  " 

"  Ay,  they  are  well-set-up  callants  enough,  but  they 
haven't  a  thought  beyond  their  games  and  their  plays. 
And  I  am  sure  a  work  of  grace  had  begun  in  the  bairn's 
heart." 

"  She  is  very  young,"  he  said  almost  deprecatingly. 

The  look  of  pain  on  the  old  lady's  face  hardened  into 
one  of  severity.  "  So  I  said  once  myself ! "  she  ex- 
claimed almost  bitterly.  " '  We  spend  our  years  as  a 
tale  that  is  told,'  and  when  we  look  back  from  the  end, 
as  I  do  now,  there  is  but  a  sentence — a  word —  between 
'  too  young '  and  '  too  old.'  No,  no,  Mr.  Carmichael,  it 
can  never  be  l  too  young.'  " 

She  broke  off  abruptly,  and  her  voice  vibrated  with 
earnestness  as  she  went  on  slowly — "  My  tale  is  all  but 
told.  I  seem  to  see  the  Lord  with  the  pen  in  His  hand. 
Finis!  He  may  begin  to  write  it  this  very  day — and 
what  chance  will  there  ~be  for  Wilhelmina  then?" 

A  passing  cloud  went  over  the  sun,  and  the  room  be- 
came dark  and  oppressive.  The  old  woman's  face 
gleamed  out  white  and  earnest  from  the  dusky  shadows 
behind  it.  She  reminded  the  minister  of  an  ancient 
sybil  foretelling  a  doom. 

A  moment  later  she  broke  the  spell.  "  I  forgot,"  she 
said  with  a  little  smile  of  courteous  apology.  "You 
can't  know  the  sorrows  of  your  people  as  Mr.  Johnstone 
knew  them;  and  no  doubt  you  think  me  sorely  wanting 


WINDYHAUGH.  7 

in  faith.  I  have  sown  the  seed  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  and  yet  I  can  scarce  believe  my  eyes  when  it  be- 
gins to  take  root."  The  speaker  seemed  unaware  of  the 
significance  of  her  own  metaphor. 

Yes,  the  spell  was  broken.  For  a  second  or  two  her 
earnestness  had  forced  him  to  thrill  in  sympathy;  but 
now  that  the  weird  prophetess  was  merged  in  the  con- 
ventional parishioner,  the  manhood  in  him  waxed  piti- 
ful for  the  childhood  of  Wilhelmina. 

He  drew  down  his  brows.     "  When  did  it  begin  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  about  six  weeks  ago.  I  had  been  tell- 
ing her  that  she  must  search  her  own  heart,  and  make 
sure  that  she  loved  the  Lord  Jesus.  Bairns  are  so  apt 
to  take  things  for  granted;  they  say  pretty  things,  and 
then,  as  they  grow  up,  it  all  slips  from  them  like  a  gar- 
ment. Well,  ever  since  then  I  can  see  she's  had  some- 
thing on  her  mind.  She'll  not  answer  questions — she 
has  an  awful  will  of  her  own — but  at  times  she'll  ask 
one — offhand  like — about  faith  or  election  or  justifica- 
tion. She  is  extraordinarily  forward  in  doctrine  for 
her  years." 

The  minister  sighed,  but  reflected  that  after  all  the 
Lord  knew  His  own  business  best. 

"You  have  got  the  start  of  us  all  with  your  straw- 
berries, Mrs.  Galbraith,"  he  said,  striking  off  cheerily 
at  a  tangent. 

But  she  did  not  seem  to  hear  him. 

"  I  wish  you  would  speak  to  the  bairn,"  she  said. 
"  You're  used  to  putting  the  plan  of  salvation  in  differ- 
ent ways  so  as  to  appeal  to  all ;  and  she  would  pay  atten- 
tion to  you." 

He  bowed,  drawing  down  his  heavy  brows  rather 
grimly. 

But  the  old  lady  went  steadily  on  round  the  centre  of 
her  thoughts.  "  If  she  gets  her  mind  past  it  this  time," 
she  said,  "  there's  no  saying  how  long  it  may  be  before 
the  Lord  will  lay  His  hand  on  her  again." 

The  children  lay  stretched  full  length  in  the  hayfield, 
like  kittens  momentarily  exhausted  with  a  romp. 
For  a  whole  half -minute  nobody  spoke. 


8  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Let's  pretend,"  said  Wilhelmina  dreamily  at  last, 
"  that  we  are  out  in  the  desert."  She  had  had  a  rather 
nice  reading-lesson  that  morning,  and  she  almost  knew 
it  by  heart.  "  There's  nothing  but  sand  to  be  seen  for 
miles  and  miles — not  a  tree,  nor  a  flower,  nor — nor  any- 
thing." 

"What's  that  then?"  said  literal  Hugh,  pointing  to 
the  row  of  scraggy  sycamores  that  bounded  the  field. 

"  That's  a  mirage." 

"A  what?" 

"  A  mirage.  There's  something  about  it  in  my  read- 
ing-book. It's  not  real." 

"  And  what's  that  ?  "     He  indicated  a  haycock. 

"  That's  a  castle !  "  shouted  Gavin,  lifting  an  inno- 
cent baby  face  from  his  arm. 

"  All  right,"  said  Hugh.     "  I'll  be  a  knight." 

Wilhelmina  looked  at  him  witheringly.  "  There  are 
no  knights  in  the  desert,"  she  said. 

He  drew  himself  up.  Criticism  was  not  to  be  toler- 
ated from  a  girl  younger  than  himself.  "  Silly ! "  he 
ejaculated.  "  How  could  there  be  a  castle  without 
knights  ?  What  will  you  be,  Gavin  ?  " 

Gavin's  downy  face  beamed  with  the  sweetest  of 
smiles.  "  I'll  be  a  robber !  "  he  piped. 

"  All  right.  Wilhelmina,  you'll  be  my  wife,  and 
Gavin  will  run  away  with  you ;  and  then  you'll  see  a  fine 
shindy!" 

"  I  won't !  "  said  Wilhelmina  indignantly.  "  As  if 
Gavin  could  run  away  with  me !  I'll  be  a  Bedouin." 

Hugh  frowned  indignantly.  His  disgust  was  not  les- 
sened by  the  fact  that  he  had  no  idea  what  a  Bedouin 
was. 

"  Look  here  now !  "  he  said.  "  How  can  we  have  a 
game  when  everybody  chooses?  Girls  must  do  what 
they  are  told." 

There  was  some  sense  in  the  question,  if  not  in  the 
deduction,  and  Wilhelmina  looked  doubtful.  She  was 
not  used  to  boys'  games,  but  she  thought  she  could  or- 
ganize this  one  a  good  deal  better  than  he  could.  It 
was  the  whole  question  of  the  rights  of  women  in  a 
nutshell. 


WINDYHAUGH.  9 

She  honestly  tried  to  give  in,  but  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  game  suffered  considerably  as  a  work  of 
art  from  the  presence  in  it  of  a  strong-minded  woman. 
Hugh  might  have  become  accustomed  to  the  new  element 
in  time,  but  at  present  it  proved  rather  disturbing,  and 
there  was  a  general  sense  of  relief  when  the  minister  ap- 
peared and  challenged  Wilhelmina  to  race  with  him 
across  the  field. 

He  did  not  seem  to  be  much  of  a  runner,  however, 
for  in  a  few  seconds  he  cried  out  for  quarter. 

"  It  is  nice  having  your  cousins  to  play  with,  isn't 
it?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

She  had  grave  doubts  on  the  subject  at  the  moment, 
but  in  those  days  well-brought-up  children  first  answered 
a  question  prettily,  and  then  stopped  to  consider  it — 
if  indeed  it  was  worth  consideration  at  all.  The  ques- 
tions of  grown-up  people  are  seldom  worth  much,  and 
yet  they  are  so  slow  to  learn  that  their  business  is  to  an- 
swer, not  to  ask! 

"  You  know,  dear,"  he  went  on,  painfully  conscious 
that  his  manner  was  becoming  heavy  and  pastoral,  "  God 
loves  to  see  you  enjoying  yourself  like  that.  Why  else 
does  He  give  us  the  blue  sky  and  the  sunshine,  and  send 
the  breeze  to  make  those  poppies  dance?  So  long  as 
you  love  Jesus,  and  try  to  be  kind  to  everybody,  you 
can't  be  too  gay  and  happy  to  please  God." 

The  child  did  not  answer.  Her  face  had  assumed  an 
expression  of  stony  indifference. 

The  minister  was  scarcely  disappointed,  and  yet  he 
had  hoped  something  from  the  sheer  novelty  of  his  Gos- 
pel of  Joy  to  this  solemn  little  hearer.  Some  men  would 
have  pursued  the  conversation  by  the  simple  method 
of  asking  questions;  but  Mr.  Carmichael  possessed  a 
reverence  for  the  personality  of  a  child  that  in  those 
days  was  very  rare.  He  was  afraid  of  meddling  with 
what  he  did  not  understand,  and  Wilhelmina's  face  was 
an  impenetrable  mask.  It  made  him  think — irrelevantly 
enough,  perhaps — of  Matthew  Arnold's  Gipsy  Child  by 
the  Sea-shore. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  escort,"  he  said  kindly,  holding 


10  WIKDYHAUGH. 

out  his  hand.  "  Good-bye.  Run  back  and  take  care  of 
the  boys." 

But  the  child  walked  across  the  field  with  steps  as 
heavy  as  lead.  Why  had  he  come  to  remind  her  of  her 
troubles?  Of  course  what  he  said  was  very  pretty — 
the  old  minister  never  talked  like  that — but  the  thorn 
was  there  just  the  same,  concealed  among  the  flowers — 
"  So  long  as  you  love  Jesus  " ! 

And  what  he  said  was  not  only  pretty,  but  true.  She 
knew  from  the  stories  she  had  read  that  some  children 
did  find  a  short  and  easy  way  to  salvation  by  "  loving 
Jesus " ;  Hugh  and  Gavin,  when  questioned  by  her 
grandmother,  were  ready  with  a  glib  assurance  that 
they  loved  Him ;  and,  until  she  began  to  "  search  her 
own  heart,"  had  not  she  taken  for  granted  that  she 
did  too? 

But  now  the  short  and  easy  way  was  closed  to  her. 
How  was  it  possible  to  feel  sure  that  one  loved,  when 
so  much  depended  on  it?  When  it  came  to  searching 
one's  heart,  even  believing  seemed  easier  than  loving. 

Hugh  was  very  meditative  as  the  children  sat  at  tea 
that  evening,  and  when  his  hunger  was  appeased,  his 
reflections  found  voice. 

"  I  don't  believe  anybody  will  ever  marry  Wilhel- 
mina,"  he  said  dispassionately. 

Nurse's  feathers  were  out  in  a  moment.  She  often 
seemed  to  "  favour  "  the  boy  visitors,  but  her  heart  was 
in  the  right  place  after  all. 

"  Well,  I  never !  "  she  cried.  "  And  why  not,  I'd  like 
to  know?" 

Hugh  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  had  a  number  of 
queer  little  man-of-the-world  airs  that  at  his  age  were 
very  amusing.  "  I  know  /  won't ;  and  I  don't  believe 
any  of  the  fellows  would.  They  like  the  gentle,  cling- 
ing sort." 

Wilhelmina's  rosy  face  turned  almost  white.  So  life 
had  room  for  one  terror  more ! 

But  nurse  took  up  the  cudgels  gallantly,  half  laugh- 
ing, half  indignant. 

"You  didn't  suppose  she  was  going  to  cling  to  yo u, 


A  NEW  DIMENSION.  11 

did  you  ?  "  she  asked — "  for  all  your  grand  words  ?  Why, 
she's  more  of  a  man  than  you  and  Gavin  put  together! 
Wait  till  she  meets  somebody  worth  her  while !  " 

Wilhelmina  looked  up  gratefully — but  she  was  only 
half  comforted.  Nurse  was  very  kind;  but  after  all 
Hugh  was  a  man:  he  ought  to  know. 

She  looked  so  unhappy  that  dear  little  Gavin  laid  his 
peachy  face  consolingly  against  hers.  "  Never  mind, 
Vilma,"  he  chirped,  "  I'll  marry  you — some  day — if  no- 
body else  does ! " 

But  it  was  a  very  weary  downhearted  little  girl  that 
buried  her  face  in  the  pillows  that  night.  What  between 
"  getting  married  "  and  "  getting  converted,"  life  really 
was  too  difficult!  And  yet  so  many  quite  common  peo- 
ple were  being  married  and  converted  every  day ! 


CHAPTER  III. 

A   NEW  DIMENSION. 

ANOTHER  autumn  day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
the  glamour  of  sunset  lay  upon  Windyhaugh.  The  con- 
stant murmur  of  the  leaves  was  lulled  for  the  time  into 
a  fitful  breath;  and  the  red-gold  rays  shot  in  a  level 
shaft  athwart  the  tree-trunks,  casting  long  straight  shad- 
ows, and  lighting  up  the  interior  of  the  little  plantation 
into  the  semblance  of  a  cathedral.  One  almost  expected 
to  hear  the  pealing  of  the  organ  at  vespers  from  the 
arched  tracery  overhead. 

The  song  of  the  birds  had  died  away  into  a  sleepy 
intermittent  twitter,  but  out  on  the  lawn  a  half -grown 
kitten  leaped  at  the  flitting  moths,  and  Hugh  and  Gavin 
chased  each  other  through  the  shrubbery  with  peals  of 
excited  laughter. 

It  was  long  past  Gavin's  bedtime — under  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith's   old-fashioned  regime;  but  the  mother   of  the 
boys  was  expected  that  evening,  so  he  had  been  allowed 
to  stay  up.     Wilhelmina  was  in  bed  as  usual. 
2 


12  WINDYHAUGH. 

She  lay  in  her  little  white  chamber,  all  athrob  with 
expectation.  Visitors  were  rare  at  Windyhaugh,  and 
to-night  was  to  bring  her  dead  mother's  very  own  sister. 
Once  and  again  the  child  sprang  up  in  bed,  fancying 
she  heard  the  distant  sound  of  wheels  on  the  country- 
road.  First,  a  corn-cart  passed,  then  a  brake  with  be- 
lated excursionists;  but,  as  a  rule,  the  sounds  she  heard 
existed  only  in  her  busy  little  brain. 

And  it  seemed  to  the  child  that  hours  were  pass- 
ing by. 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  she'll  come  ? "  she  asked,  half 
crying,  when  the  nurse  came  in  to  fetch  a  garment  that 
needed  repair. 

The  young  woman  looked  half  contemptuously  at 
the  flushed  face  and  trembling  lips. 

"  Come  ?  Of  course  she'll  come.  Why  wouldn't  she 
come?  Lie  down  and  go  to  sleep,  and  you'll  see  her  all 
the  sooner." 

Ah,  now  there  was  no  mistake!  Those  wheels  must 
be  on  the  avenue  under  the  limes:  that  was  Gavin's 
voice  raised  in  a  squeal  of  glee:  now  Hugh  was  firing 
off  an  ill-timed  volley  of  petty  experiences:  there  was 
a  quiet  word  or  two  from  Grannie,  and  then 

Oh,  what  a  beautiful  voice! 

Hugh's  "  English  accent,"  as  Mrs.  Galbraith  termed 
it,  had  struck  Wilhelmina  at  first  as  affected  and  ridicu- 
lous; but  this  voice  was  quite  a  different  thing.  It 
brought  a  rosy  flush  of  intense  appreciation  to  the  eager 
listening  face.  There  might  almost  be  fairies  after  all 
in  a  world  that  could  produce  a  voice  like  that.  Surely 
just  so  would  the  wonderful  Godmother  have  spoken — • 
if — alas! — she  had  ever  appeared  to  light  up  the  dreary 
kitchen.  Happy  Hugh!  Happy  Gavin! 

In  truth  the  voice  was  soft  and  musical  above  the 
average ;  but  what  really  came  upon  the  child  as  a  reve- 
lation, introducing,  as  she  afterwards  said,  a  new  di- 
mension into  her  life,  was  the  cultured,  gracious,  flexible 
manner  of  speech.  It  formed  a  wondrous  contrast  to 
the  staid  and  rigid  directness  with  which  Grannie  went 
straight  to  her  point. 

The  house  was  dark  and  quiet  before  Wilhelmina  fell 


A  NEW  DIMENSION.  13 

asleep,  and  she  did  not  wake  the  next  morning  till  the 
nurse  came  in.  There  were  a  thousand  questions  then 
that  she  longed  to  ask;  but  Jane  would  only  laugh  at 
her  eagerness  and  talk  of  it  to  the  other  servants,  so  she 
resolved  to  wait  and  judge  for  herself.  She  could  be 
troublesome  and  impatient  enough  on  occasion,  and  to- 
day she  did  not  reflect  that  her  aunt  would  not  be  visible 
for  hours;  but  she  resigned  herself  to  the  varied  oper- 
ations of  her  toilet  with  absolute  stoicism.  Nurse  al- 
most thought  she  had  forgotten  the  new  arrival.  Luck- 
ily for  both,  nurse  was  a  stolid  young  woman,  quite 
insensible  as  a  rule  to  the  child's  state  of  mental  vibra- 
tion, and  she  did  not  realize  that  the  occasion  was  too 
great  for  words. 

When  at  length  the  nursery  door  opened,  Wilhelmina 
walked  out  very  slowly.  She  scarcely  expected  the  old 
house  to  look  the  same  as  it  had  done  yesterday. 

A  great  shock  awaited  her  on  the  threshold.  A 
stranger  was  coming  upstairs  with  a  cup  of  chocolate  on 
a  salver.  Could  it  be ?  No,  it  could  not  be! 

Nurse  laughed.  She  had  an  irritating  power  of  read- 
ing her  charge's  thoughts  when  they  were  in  any  way 
laughable  or  petty  or  contemptible.  It  is  not  an  un- 
common power  among  minds  of  a  certain  rank. 

"  Were  you  thinking  that  was  your  aunt  ?  "  she  said, 
as  the  stranger  disappeared  into  the  best  bedroom. 
"  That  is  Pearson,  her  maid." 

"  I  never  thought  she  was  my  aunt ! "  said  Wilhel- 
mina  indignantly;  but  a  minute  later  she  heard  Jane 
laughing  in  the  kitchen,  and  knew  that  the  joke  was 
being  duly  repeated.  It  was  only  by  dint  of  the  most 
cheeseparing  economy  that  the  servants  at  Windyhaugh 
could  get  enough  food  for  gossip  to  keep  them  in  life. 

Almost  for  the  first  time  in  her  experience,  the  child 
had  difficulty  in  disposing  of  her  porridge  that  morning. 
Hugh,  on  the  other  hand,  who  had  hitherto  manifested 
a  hopeless  cockney  inability  to  understand  how  porridge 
should  be  eaten,  got  rid  of  his  with  extraordinary  dis- 
patch, not  even  pausing  when,  from  time  to  time,  he 
kicked  Gavin  meaningly  under  the  table. 

As  soon  as  they  had  finished,  Hugh  rose,  pulling 


14:  WINDYHAUGH. 

Gavin  by  the  sleeve,  and  asserting  that  their  mother  had 
wished  to  see  them  "  directly  they  finished  their  break- 
fast." 

Wilhelmina  looked  at  him  with  blazing  eyes.  "  I 
wouldn't  be  a  mean!"  she  said  scornfully.  "Do  you 
think  I  didn't  see  you  kicking  Gavin?  You  know  you 
never  told  your  Mother  that  Grannie  likes  us  all  to  be 
at  prayers ! " 

Of  course  her  indignation  was  augmented  by  the  fact 
that  she  would  fain  have  escaped  prayers  herself.  Be- 
sides, if  Hugh  was  not  there,  she  was  bereft  even  of 
the  consolation  of  showing  how  much  better  she  could 
tackle  the  big  words  than  he  could. 

"  Aunt  Enid  wanted  them,"  she  said  shortly,  when 
Grannie  questioned  her  as  to  the  absence  of  the  boys. 
She  had  lived  too  much  alone  to  understand  the  principle 
of  honour  among  thieves,  as  most  children  understand 
it,  but  Nurse's  unconscious  training  had  made  it  a 
matter  of  second  nature  "  not  to  tell." 

"Fetch  the  books,"  said  Grannie  severely.  She  was 
apt  to  be  severe  to  her  grandchild,  not — Heaven  knows ! 
— from  want  of  affection,  but  from  an  ever-increasing 
sense  of  responsibility;  and  now  the  gracious  ease  of 
Enid  Dalrymple's  manner  had  the  effect  of  making  Mrs. 
Galbraith,  in  reality  as  well  as  in  semblance,  more  stern 
and  uncompromising  than  ever. 

Wilhelmina  took  two  Bibles,  two  psalm-books,  and  a 
volume  of  Family  Prayers  from  the  shelf,  and  Grannie 
solemnly  "  gave  out "  a  chapter  in  Ezra.  She  would 
much  rather  have  chosen  a  passage  from  the  New  Tes- 
tament— something  bearing  more  immediately  on  the 
subject  of  her  prayers — but  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  de- 
parture from  the  ordinary  routine  would  argue  a  want 
of  faith  in  one  who  professed  to  believe  that  "  all  Scrip- 
ture is  given  by  inspiration  of  God." 

So  they  read  monotonously  through  the  chapter, 
"  verse  about " ;  and,  after  a  metrical  psalm  had  been 
treated  in  the  same  fashion,  Grannie  opened  the  mighty 
prayer-book.  It  was  one  of  her  thorns  in  the  flesh  that 
she  had  no  gift  for  extempore  prayer;  and,  however  far 
afield  Wilhelmina's  thoughts  might  be  wandering,  she 


A  NEW  DIMENSION.  15 

could  always  tell  when  the  old  lady  put  in  a  bit  of  her 
own  by  the  pathetic  quaver  in  the  feeble  voice. 

The  child  was  looking  very  thoughtful  when  they  rose 
from  their  knees,  and  the  rare,  beautiful  smile  broke 
over  Grannie's  face. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  bairn  ? "  she  asked 
kindly. 

She  scarcely  expected  a  reply,  but  for  once  Wilhel- 
mina  was  frank. 

"  I  was  wondering,"  she  said,  "  how  Hugh  would  have 
per — pernounced  Zerubbabel." 

Poor  Grannie! 

Wilhelmina  put  away  the  books — very  reverently,  as 
Grannie's  eye  was  upon  her — and  then  timidly  lifted  one 
of  the  slats  of  the  Venetian  blinds  to  look  out  on  the 
glorious  sunny  morning.  The  windows  of  the  room 
looked  south  and  east,  so  the  blinds  were  kept  down  in 
the  morning,  and  the  windows  themselves  were  kept  shut 
all  day.  It  was  very  childish  and  undisciplined,  of 
course,  but  just  after  prayers  one  did  feel  an  almost 
irresistible  longing  to  prance  out  on  the  lawn,  and 
a  race  through  the  shrubbery  down  to  the  beach  would 
have  been  very  heaven. 

"  Now  see  and  fetch  your  slate  and  copy-book,"  said 
Grannie  quietly;  and  so  the  eternal  treadmill  began 
once  more. 

By  half -past  ten  slate  and  copy-book  were  put  away, 
and  Wilhelmina  was  hemming  her  handkerchief.  We 
all  know  that  handkerchief! — limp  and  crumpled  and 
grimy,  with  its  little  landmarks  of  blood  all  along  the 
track;  the  original  ones  very  brown  and  dark,  the  re- 
cent ones  vivid  and  bright  with  the  most  glorious  colour 
on  earth — so  Ruskin  tells  us — the  red  of  stained-glass 
windows. 

The  last  landmark  was  the  largest  of  all,  for,  just  as 
Wilhelmina  got  to  that  point,  the  door  opened,  and  the 
Fairy  godmother  drifted  in. 

Of  course  she  was  not  beautiful.  In  real  life  beau- 
tiful women  are  so  rare!  And  yet — how  beautiful  she 
was! — all  mellow  and  gold  and  full  of  harmony,  like 
the  voice  Wilhelmina  had  listened  to  the  night  before. 


16  WINDYHAUGH. 

The  good  Pearson  had  spent  a  full  half-hour  over 
that  wonderful  mass  of  hair  that  looked  like  last  year's 
beech  leaves  in  an  April  shower,  and  yet  one  might  have 
thought  that  Nature  had  twisted  it  just  like  that.  In- 
deed I  don't  feel  sure  that  Nature  would  have  blushed 
even  for  the  gown,  so  much  did  it  resemble  a  great 
dewy  bunch  of  lilac  blossom.  And  the  complexion  and 
eyes  and  teeth  made  up  the  wonderful  chord  that  vi- 
brated through  poor  little  puritan  Wilhelmina  for  many 
a  long  day. 

The  child  rose  to  her  feet  and  stood  speechless.  Her 
thick  brown  hair  was  brushed  smoothly  down  behind  her 
ears,  and,  in  honour  of  her  aunt's  arrival,  she  wore  her 
Sabbath  frock,  a  slate-coloured  garment  that  contained 
rather  than  clothed  her,  a  structure  built  to  allow  for 
the  expansion  of  its  contents,  a  thing  of  excellent  ma- 
terial, ill-shaped  and  beautifully  sewed  by  a  conscien- 
tious, expensive,  provincial  dressmaker. 

An  artist  would  have  failed  to  recognize  the  child 
as  the  witch  of  the  sugar-barrel;  but,  in  those  days,  if 
children  were  works  of  art  at  all,  the  credit,  as  a  rule, 
was  quite  their  own,  and  their  unconscious  efforts  in  this 
direction  were  not  invariably  appreciated  by  their  elders. 

"  So  you  are  Wilhelmina !  "  said  the  Fairy  godmother, 
stooping  to  kiss  the  upturned  face. 

She  pronounced  the  name  very  prettily,  taking  time 
to  round  off  the  liquids;  and  she  looked  at  the  child 
as  if,  just  at  that  moment,  there  was  no  one  in  the 
world  whom  she  cared  so  much  to  see.  "  Is  it  Mina  for 
short?" 

The  child  shook  her  head. 

"  Grannie  doesn't  like  them  to  call  me  Mina ;  but 
Gavin  is  so  little — he  calls  me  Vilma." 

"  Really  ?  That's  quite  clever  of  Gavin.  Wilhel- 
mina must  be  rather  a  mouthful  for  him,  poor  little 
man !  Now,  do  you  think  you  would  like  to  come  up  to 
my  room,  and  see  what  I  have  got  for  you  in  my  trunk  ?  " 

A  great  red  wave  surged  into  the  child's  face;  the 
element  of  surprise  was  so  rare  in  her  little  life!  But 
the  red  died  away  again  before  she  said  shamefacedly — 

"  Grannie  said  I  was  to  get  to  the  corner  of  my  hem." 


A  NEW  DIMENSION.  17 

Was  there  just  the  least  ring  of  amused  contempt  in 
the  pleasant  laugh? 

"  Oh !  Quite  right.  I  see  you  are  a  very  good  little 
girl.  I  hope  Hugh  and  Gavin  will  take  a  lesson  from 
you.  Do  you  think  Grannie  would  mind  our  opening 
the  window  ? " 

Of  course  Grannie  would  mind !  The  window  never 
was  opened  except  at  long  and  stated  intervals.  Wilhel- 
mina  did  not  dare  to  commit  herself  either  way  in  words, 
nor  could  she  leave  the  responsibility  wholly  on  the 
shoulders  that  were  so  well  able  to  bear  it.  She  simply 
looked  on  at  the  perpetration  of  the  deed  with  a  face 
of  quiet  unhappiness,  not  attempting  to  blink  the  fact 
that  she  was  an  accessory. 

But  Grannie  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  window  when 
she  came  in  a  minute  later.  She  greeted  her  guest  with 
dignified  courtesy,  and  enquired  how  she  had  slept. 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  looked  as  if  for  once  it  was  a  real 
pleasure  to  answer  that  question.  "  I  don't  know  when 
I  have  had  such  a  restful  night.  After  that  noisy  house- 
ful of  people  in  Perthshire,  this  seems  like  a  haven  of 
rest.  What  a  situation!  and  what  a  view!  This  little 
girl" — she  passed  her  hand  lightly  over  Wilhelmina's 
hair — "  is  fortunate  indeed  to  grow  up  in  a  home  like 
this." 

She  laughed  softly,  and  went  on  with  a  deprecating 
docility  that  was  pretty  to  see — 

"  You  must  think  me  shockingly  lazy,  and  as  a  rule 
I  am  such  an  early  riser!  But  the  pleasure  of  looking 
out  on  the  blue  water  over  the  tree-tops  was  more  than 
I  could  resist.  If  I  were  a  rich  woman  I  should  have 
a  country-house  just  like  this." 

Wilhelmina's  eyes  grew  very  round.  Here  was  pov- 
erty in  a  new  form! — poverty  in  a  lovely  gown  that 
would  soil  so  easily,  and  that  certainly  wouldn't 
wash. 

"  Grannie,"  she  said  when  the  conversation  came  to 
a  pause,  "  I  have  got  to  my  corner.  May  I  go  with 
Aunt  Enid?" 

Mrs.  Galbraith  looked  at  the  visitor  enquiringly. 

"  I  wanted  her  to  come  to  my  room,  and  then  to  take 


18  WINDYHAUGH. 

me  out  to  the  grounds;  but  she  was  very  conscientious 
about  finishing  her  task  first." 

Grannie  examined  the  hem  with  doubtful  satisfac- 
tion, but  decided  to  be  lenient  for  once.  "  Run  and  get 
your  hat,"  she  said,  "  and  see  and  don't  weary  your  aunt. 
Your  nurse  will  soon  be  ready  to  take  you  for  your 
walk." 

Wilhelmina  scarcely  recognized  the  best  bedroom. 
She  had  been  wont  to  enter  its  shrouded,  lavender- 
scented  precincts  with  awe,  and  to  speak,  if  she  spoke 
there  at  all,  in  a  low  hushed  voice;  but  to-day  the  room 
was  full  of  air  and  sunshine  and  the  song  of  birds;  a 
profusion  of  silver  lay  about  the  dressing-table;  photo- 
graphs in  morocco  frames  stood  here  and  there ;  a  basket 
of  hothouse  fruit  had  been  half  rifled  by  the  boys ;  dainty 
wraps,  dainty  linen,  dainty  shoes  peeped  out  from  this 
corner  and  that ;  and  withal  there  was  such  a  profusion 
of  luggage  as  Wilhelmina  could  scarcely  believe  to  be 
the  property  of  one  individual. 

The  child  was  completely  dazzled  and  bewildered. 
Hitherto  life  had  arranged  itself  for  her  in  a  definite 
design,  like  iron  filings  round  the  poles  of  a  magnet. 
Right  and  wrong,  good  and  bad,  Heaven  and  Hell :  these, 
in  her  childish  way,  she  understood.  But  now  a  new 
element  had  come  into  view,  and  it  seemed  impossible 
to  find  a  place  for  it  in  the  original  scheme.  Here  was 
something  that  was  neither  right  nor  wrong,  neithed  good 
nor  bad.  Make  a  second  chart,  and  put  it  in  a  separate 
pigeon-hole?  Some  of  us  accumulate  a  dozen  or  more 
such  charts  as  we  go  through  life,  and  steer  our  course 
by  whichever  chances  to  come  to  hand.  Only  the  very 
wise  and  the  very  simple  become  possessed  of  a  single 
chart  that  will  answer  all  their  needs. 

Of  course  Wilhelmina  dreamt  of  a  doll.  What  else 
appeals  so  strongly  to  the  feelings  of  seven  years  old? 
But  dolls  are  awkward  things  to  pack,  and  the  child 
was  abundantly  content  with  a  great  box  of  chocolates, 
encircled  as  it  was  with  a  rich  red  ribbon.  What  would 
Mr.  Darsie  say  to  a  box  like  that? — he  whose  imagina- 


LIFE  WIDENS  OUT.  19 

tion  was  bounded  (as  Wilhelmina's  had  been  hitherto) 
by  the  tin-clad  slabs  of  butter-scotch,  and  the  faded  tar- 
tan packets  of  "  mixtures "  in  his  cobwebby  window. 
Wilhelmina  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  superiority  to  poor 
Mr.  Darsie. 

She  had  no  power  of  expression,  and  circumstances 
had  not  tended  to  develop  in  her  that  "  sense  of  favours 
to  come  "  which  may  lend  a  gift  of  utterance  even  to  the 
dullest.  She  said  "  Thank  you "  very  solemnly,  and 
gazed  at  the  box  with  devouring  eyes. 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  laughed  good-humouredly.  "  There ! 
run  and  show  it  to  nurse,"  she  said,  "  and  ask  her  to 
put  your  hat  on.  You  know  you  are  going  to  show  me 
the  garden." 

But  Wilhelmina  did  not  move. 

"  May  I  eat  one  now  ? "  she  whispered  gravely,  "  or 
must  I  ask  Grannie  first?  If  I  took  one  from  under- 
neath she  would  never  know." 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  laughed  again.  Assuredly  this  was 
not  an  attractive  child. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LIFE   WIDENS   OUT. 

'A  DAY  or  two  later  the  sun  still  shone  down  royally, 
and,  as  Enid  Dalrymple  stood  by  her  ivy-framed  win- 
dow, she  could  see  the  blue  waves  break  on  the  shingle 
below  the  fort. 

But  for  once  her  fair  face  was  clouded. 

"  A  gay  place  this,  Pearson !  "  she  cried,  "  actually  a 
military  station!  A  handful  of  soldiers  in  charge  of  a 
powder  magazine!  What  time  is  it?  Two  o'clock? 
Two  o'clock,  and  dinner — dinner — is  over.  Nothing — 
save  perhaps  a  call  from  the  minister — can  possibly  hap- 
pen for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Does  the  butcher  come  this 
afternoon,  Pearson,  or  did  that  great  event  occur  yes- 
terday? Mon  Dieul  but  we  are  fallen  on  stirring 
times  1 " 


20  WINDYHAUGH. 

She  threw  herself  into  an  old-fashioned  arm-chair, 
but  rose  to  her  feet  again  with  a  petulant  sigh.  "  Don't 
you  think  you  could  arrange  the  cushions  so  as  to  make 
this  chair  a  little  less  intolerable?  There!  Give  me 
the  French  book  I  was  reading,  and  bring  me  a  cup  of 
tea  when  you  have  finished  your  dinner.  This  is  Tues- 
day, and  we  must  hold  out  till  Friday.  What  in  the 
world  made  me  promise  to  stay  for  a  week  ? " 

"  Would  you  not  care  to  go  for  a  drive  to-morrow, 
Madam?  I  saw  a  very  fine  turn-out  to-day — a  landau. 
Jane  said  it  came  from  the  Cat  and  Cucumber.  You 
could  drive  through  the  Duke  of  Carsland's  grounds, 
and  lunch  at  Spanforth." 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  looked  up  sleepily  from  her  book. 
"  That's  not  a  bad  idea,  Pearson,"  she  said.  "  The  boys 
must  be  dull  enough,  poor  little  souls.  Mrs.  Galbraith 
doesn't  understand  children,  and  it  won't  do  to  have 
them  put  her  family  prayer-book  in  the  water-butt 
again." 

Pearson  left  the  room,  and  her  mistress  was  just  be- 
ginning to  take  a  languid  interest  in  the  novel  when  a 
timid  tap  at  the  door  announced  the  arrival  of  Wilhel- 
mina. 

"  This  is  the  new  Good  Words,"  she  said.  "  Grannie 
sent  me  up  to  see  if  you  would  like  to  read  it." 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  held  out  her  hand  with  an  indulgent 
smile.  "  That  was  very  kind.  Good — Words.  Is  that 
a  magazine  that  Grannie  takes  in  for  you  ? " 

The  child  shook  her  head.  "  Grannie  says  the  stories 
are  not  for  children.  She  doesn't  read  them  herself, 
but  Jane  does,  and  she  tells  me  bits.  They're  nice." 

"  So  you  like  stories,  do  you  ? " 

Wilhelmina  nodded.  "  I  like  grown-up  stories 
best." 

"  That's  like  Hugh.  But  I  see  there  are  sermons 
here  as  well  as  stories.  Does  Grannie  let  you  read 
them?" 

"I  don't  know.    I  suppose  so." 

"  I  am  sure  a  good  little  girl  like  you  must  be  very 
fond  of  sermons  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  looked  puzzled.     The  old  Adam  certainly 


LIFE  WIDENS  OUT.  21 

did  not  like  them  much,  but  she  had  an  uneasy  feeling 
that  they  were  essential  to  the  birth  of  the  new  Adam, 
and  therefore  highly  desirable.  As  the  result  of  a  long 
process  of  reflection  she  replied  briefly: 

"  I  don't  know." 

"<  Don't  know — don't  know/  What  a  queer  little 
girl  you  are!  Suppose  you  tell  me  something  you  do 
know.  What  do  you  all  do  with  yourselves  here  at  Win- 
dyhaugh  in  winter  ?  " 

Another  long  silence.  "It's  just  the  same  as  sum- 
mer— only  different." 

"  Come !  That  was  worth  waiting  for.  I  always  felt 
sure  your  father  had  a  touch  of  the  blarney.  The  Irish 
strain  takes  another  form  with  you.  Don't  you  get  very 
dull  sometimes  ? " 

"I  don't  know." 

"  Or  cross  ?    I  am  very  cross  to-day,  little  Vilma." 

Wilhelmina  stared.  A  grown-up  person  who  owned 
to  being  cross  was  almost  a  monstrosity. 

"  I  expect  the  weather  must  be  at  fault.  I  think  I 
hear  the  wind  rising.  Where  does  the  wind  come  from 
to-day?" 

"I  don't  kn — that  is — I  think  it  comes  from  the 
trees." 

"  Ah !  That  would  account  for  a  great  deal !  Can 
you  reach  that  large  wicker  bottle  on  the  dressing-table? 
Doesn't  it  smell  good  ?  Would  you  like  some  too  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  drew  in  the  fragrance  with  a  long  breath, 
and  the  pleasure  of  it  tingled  along  her  susceptible 
nerves.  "  It's  nice,"  she  said  briefly. 

"  So  I  think."  Mrs.  Dalrymple  began  to  wish  that 
the  child  would  go,  but  it  was  characteristic  of  her  to  be 
unwilling  to  say  so.  Meanwhile  innocent  Wilhelmina 
had  seated  herself  on  a  low  stool,  and,  face  in  hand,  was 
staring  with  all  her  might  at  the  Fairy  godmother  in 
her  wondrous  draperies. 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  tried  to  go  on  with  her  book,  but 
the  mesmerism  of  those  eyes  was  too  much  for  her. 

"  Why,  child,  you  make  me  quite  nervous,"  she  cried 
at  length  with  an  uneasy  laugh.  "  What  ever  are  you 
thinking  of  behind  that  solemn  face  ? " 


22  WINDYHAUGH. 

"I  was  thinking "  Wilhelmina  began;  but  her 

courage  failed,  and  she  stopped. 

"How  pretty  you  are,"  were  the  words  on  her  lips, 
and  what  a  difference  they  might  have  made  in  her  life, 
had  she  uttered  them! 

"Well,"  said  her  aunt  almost  sharply,  "what  were 
you  thinking  ? " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Of  course  not.  Run  away  and  play,  like  a  good 
little  girl.  My  head  aches." 

There  had  been  a  time  when  Windyhaugh  took  an 
honourable,  if  modest,  place  in  the  social  life  of  the 
country,  but  of  late  years  Mrs.  Galbraith  had  withdrawn 
more  and  more  from  conventional  intercourse  with  her 
neighbours.  One  or  two  families  still  paid  her  an  occa- 
sional duty-call ;  but  the  old  lady's  interests  were  becom- 
ing more  and  more  circumscribed,  and  her  real  friends 
were  few.  She  was  said  by  some  to  be  the  victim  of  re- 
ligious melancholy ;  for  there  is  no  subject  on  which  peo- 
ple are  more  ready  to  dogmatise  than  on  the  limits  of 
sanity  in  the  religious  life;  and  yet,  when  one  comes  to 
think  of  it,  the  problem  is  involved  and  far-reaching 
enough  to  be  treated  with  some  respect. 

Remote  and  forgotten,  however,  as  Windyhaugh  had 
become,  it  could  not  long  conceal  a  woman  of  Enid 
Dalrymple's  social  gifts;  and  the  day  before  she  took 
her  boys  to  London,  a  pair  of  high-stepping  horses 
pranced  up  the  carriage-drive. 

"  Robinson  Crusoe  sees  a  footprint  in  the  sand,"  she 
remarked  sotto  voce  when  the  visitors'  names  were  an- 
nounced. "  I  had  no  idea  Ryelands  was  in  this  part  of 
the  world.  Tell  Pearson  to  find  the  children  and  send 
them  in." 

The  children,  as  it  chanced,  were  building  castles  in 
the  sand,  and,  when  Jane  heard  the  message,  she  chose 
to  consider  that  it  included  her  special  fledgling. 

An  odd  trio  they  made  as  they  entered  the  white  and 
gold  drawing-room — Hugh  more  like  a  miniature  man 
of  the  world  than  ever  in  his  new  Eton  suit;  Gavin,  a 
baby  cherub  in  dark  blue  velvet  and  fine  old  point ;  Wil- 


LIFE  WIDENS  OUT.  23 

helmina But  the  reader  has  already  seen  Wilhel- 

mina  in  her  Sabbath  frock,  and  can  guess  the  worst. 

Of  course  it  was  an  excellent  thing  for  her  to  learn 
that  life  contains  wider  problems  than  the  pronunciation 
of  Zerubbabel,  but  the  lesson  was  a  bitter  one.  She 
would  have  seemed  dull  and  unresponsive  in  any  case, 
but  the  sight  of  Hugh,  standing  in  front  of  those  mag- 
nificent ladies  calmly  twirling  his  watch-chain,  and 
remarking  that  the  society  of  women  (to  wit,  Mrs. 
Galbraith,  his  mother,  Wilhelmina,  and  Jane)  palled 
after  a  time,  and  that  he  would  not  be  sorry  to  go 
back  to  school — deprived  her  completely  of  the  power  of 
speech. 

Gavin  did  not  say  much,  but  he  smiled  like  a  baby 
angel,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  idolized  in  a  way  that 
was  simply  irresistible. 

"  Who  did  you  say  the  little  girl  was  ?  "  asked  one  of 
the  ladies  at  length.  "  Wilhelmina  Galbraith  ? — not 
George  Galbraith's  daughter  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  nodded,  and  a  significant  smile 
passed  between  her  and  the  visitor.  "  She  is  not  at  all 
like  her  father,  is  she  ? " 

"Extraordinary!  What  a  fascinating  man  he  is! 
We  met  him  at  Homburg  last  month.  Poor  fellow " 

"  You  would  like  to  go  back  to  nurse,  wouldn't  you, 
dear  ? "  said  Enid  kindly ;  and  thus  ended  Wilhelmina's 
first  glimpse  of  fashionable  life. 

Though  thankful  to  escape,  she  felt  herself  dismissed 
in  disgrace,  and,  rushing  into  the  shrubbery,  she  threw 
herself  down  on  a  friendly  stretch  of  warm  brown 
turf. 

"  They  think  Hugh  so  clever,  and  me  so  stupid," 
she  sobbed,  "  and  it's  not  right,  it's  not  fair,  it's  not 
true!" 

Never  in  her  life  before  had  she  felt  this  tearing  pain 
at  her  heart-strings.  She  did  not  know  that  it  was  com- 
mon to  all  mankind,  and  that  centuries  ago  dear  Mother 
Church  had  classified  it  as  one  of  the  seven  deadly  sins. 
She  only  knew  that  it  hurt — hurt  horribly. 

Poor  little  soul!  And  at  your  age  the  true  cure  for 
that  pain  is  so  far  out  of  reach — so  far  that  most  men 


24  WINDYHAUGH. 

live  and  die  without  finding  it,  so  far  that  he  who  makes 
it  his  own  has  risen  above  happiness  and  attained  to 
blessedness. 

But  if  the  cure  for  the  disease  seems  unattainable, 
the  cure  for  the  symptom  is  always  at  hand.  In  a  few 
minutes  Wilhelmina  dried  her  tears,  and  began  to  look 
round  the  tiny  circle  of  her  acquaintance  in  search  of 
someone  who  appreciated  her,  someone  who  thought  her 
"clever."  Nurse  would  not  do;  nurse  was  rather  silly 

herself;  but  Mr.  Darsie !  He  never  said  she  was 

clever,  but  he  thought  so.  Wilhelmina  was  perfectly 
sure  that  he  thought  so. 

A  great  rush  of  affection  for  the  old  man  came  over 
her  heart.  She  wished  in  her  crude  childish  fashion 
that  she  could  give  him  something,  but  the  only  thing 
she  had  to  give  was  her  treasured  chocolates,  and  he 
would  not  care  for  them.  She  had  found  out  to  her 
great  surprise  some  time  ago  that,  living,  as  he  did,  in 
the  midst  of  a  limitless  store  of  sweets,  he  was  never 
tempted  to  touch  them. 

He  was  fond  of  books,  but  books  cost  a  lot  of  money, 
and  Wilhelmina  had  only  a  penny  in  the  world.  He 
enjoyed  a  quiet  pipe — was  it  possible  that  men  enjoyed 
tobacco  as  she  enjoyed  chocolates? — and  if  so 

A  minute  later  she  was  running  through  the  shrub- 
bery in  the  direction  of  the  'high-walled  garden.  The 
gate  was  kept  locked  as  a  rule  by  Mrs.  Galbraith's  or- 
ders, but  Tail-o'-the-week  was  at  work  to-day  and  she 
had  no  difficulty  in  getting  in. 

She  wandered  about  for  some  time  among  the  tall 
flowers  and  hedges  before  she  came  upon  the  old  man 
laying  down  fresh  hay  in  a  late  strawberry  bed.  He 
did  not  notice  her  approach,  but  the  sight  of  his  occu- 
pation was  sufficient  to  shunt  her  thoughts  for  the  mo- 
ment on  to  a  siding. 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  strawberries,"  she  said  tenta- 
tively. 

He  did  not  turn  his  head,  nor  rise  from  his  stooping 
posture. 

"  Ye'll  no'  need  to  be  fond  o'  them  the  day,"  he  said 
grimly. 


LIFE  WIDENS  OUT.  25 

So,  like  a  wise  woman,  she  returned  without  delay  to 
the  main  line. 

"  Tail-o'-the-week,"  she  began  reflectively,  uncon- 
scious that  this  appellation  was  not  strictly  intended  for 
his  ears,  "  does  tobacco  cost  a  great  deal  of  money  ? " 

Now  this,  as  it  chanced,  was  a  home-thrust.  Tail- 
o'-the-week  and  his  old  woman  held  widely  different 
views  on  the  subject. 

He  straightened  his  bent  back  as  far  as  the  rheu- 
matic muscles  would  allow,  and  scratched  his  bald  head. 
"  Weel — no'  that  muckle,"  he  said  apologetically. 

"  Could  I  get  some  for  a  penny  ?  " 

"  Weel,  Missy,  there's  a'  sorts  o'  tobaccy  an'  a'  sorts 
o'  prices.  The  like  o'  me  is  no'  able  to  buy  the  same 
as  what  the  laird  smokes.  Wad  it  be  for  a  freen  o' 
yer  ain  ? " 

Here  was  a  poser,  but  the  answer  was  strictly  non- 
committal. 

"It's  for — a  middling  sort  of  person,"  said  Wilhel- 
mina. 

"  Noo,  Missy,"  said  the  old  man  severely,  "  ye're  no' 
gaun  to  gie  it  to  yon  bit  callant.  I've  nae  doobt  ava 
that  he's  keen  to  try;  but  it's  no'  the  like  o'  baccy  that's 
gaun  to  mak'  a  man  o'  him." 

"  Do  you  mean  Hugh  ?  "  cried  Wilhelmina  indignant- 
ly. "  I  never  thought  of  giving  it  to  Hugh.  He's  only 
a  little  boy."  Then  her  face  softened  into  a  smile. 
"  Are  you  coming  again  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Ay." 

"  Then,  dear  Tail-o'-the-week,  bring  me  a  pennyworth 
of  tobacco ! — just  a  middling  sort  of  tobacco,  you  know. 
If  there's  enough  to  fill  two  pipes  it'll  do." 

She  pressed  a  hot  penny  into  his  horny  hand,  and 
rushed  away  before  he  had  time  to  refuse  so  extraordi- 
nary and  dangerous  a  commission. 

The  whole  enterprise  had  been  no  small  strain  on  the 
child's  limited  stock  of  courage,  and  she  trembled  with 
excitement  as  she  took  her  way  back  towards  the  nursery. 

Unfortunately  the  visitors  had  gone,  and  Jane  was 
already  on  the  war-path.  She  and  her  charge  met  at 
the  garden  gate. 


26  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? "  cried  the  angry  nurse. 
"  You  have  been  at  the  fruit." 

But  at  this  the  child's  overstrained  nerves  gave  way. 

"  IV  s  a  lie ! "  she  shouted. 

All  through  life  we  have  to  pay  the  penalty  of  these 
delicious,  soul-satisfying  cessions  to  impulse,  and  Wil- 
helmina  was  not  surprised  when  a  shower  of  smart  slaps 
fell  about  her  head  and  shoulders.  Her  screams  brought 
Mrs.  Galbraith  to  the  spot;  and  Jane  gave  her  own  ex- 
planation of  the  circumstances.  For  all  Wilhelmina 
could  find  to  say,  she  might  as  well  have  been  born 
dumb. 

Jane  was  reprimanded  in  private  afterwards.  For 
Wilhelmina  the  day  closed  in  deep  disgrace. 

"  And  do  you  suppose  she  had  taken  the  fruit," 
asked  Mrs.  Dalrymple,  when  Pearson  explained  to  her 
the  cause  of  the  turmoil. 

"  Well,  Madam,  if  you'll  excuse  me  saying  so,  I  don't 
think  Miss  Wilhelmina  is  a  straightforward  child.  Yes- 
terday evening  I  met  her  coming  out  of  your  room,  and 
there  was  a  strong  scent  of  eau  de  Cologne  about  the 
place.  I  looked  at  the  bottle  and  found  it  had  gone 
all  milky,  so  I  charged  her  with  adding  water  to  it ;  but 
she  denied  that  she  had  touched  it.  She  turned  very 
red.  I'm  afraid " 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  laughed.  "  I  don't  mind  her  taking, 
or  even  spilling,  my  eau  de  Cologne;  but  it  is  a  pity 
she  should  spoil  what  little  she  leaves  for  me.  But  I 
am  sorry  you  spoke  to  her,  Pearson.  Don't  on  any  ac- 
count say  a  word  to  anyone  else.  We  will  leave  the  eau 
de  Cologne  to  balance  a  few  of  the  punishments  that 
may  have  been  undeserved.  Poor  little  sinner!  This 
comes  of  being  brought  up  by  a  pious  grandmother ! " 


\ 


IN  THE  GROCER'S  PARLOUR.  27 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  shop  was  shut  for  the  night,  and  the  grocer  was 
comfortably  ensconced  in  his  snug  little  quarters  up- 
stairs. The  house  was  a  queer  old  place,  with  low  ceil- 
ings and  uneven  floors;  the  unwary  visitor  had  always 
to  be  warned  concerning  certain  treacherous  steps  that 
led  unexpectedly  from  room  to  room;  but,  such  as  it 
was,  the  quaint  little  place  realized  the  old  man's  idea 
of  a  home. 

His  books,  chosen  so  lovingly  one  by  one  through  a 
long  period  of  years,  were  carefully  garnered  in  odd 
bookshelves  against  the  walls,  and  over  the  mantelpiece 
hung  the  portrait  of  a  great  man  who  had  lived  here 
once,  and  in  whose  aura  the  grocer  lived  humbly  and 
contentedly. 

A  tiny  fire  burned  in  the  grate,  for  the  night  was 
chilly ;  a  black  kettle  purred  on  the  hob ;  and  the  grocer 
himself,  pipe  in  mouth,  sat  in  the  horsehair  arm-chair, 
with  a  book  before  him,  and  a  spirit-stand  on  the  table 
by  his  side. 

There  was  a  loud  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  pleasant 
young  voice  called  out: 

"  May  I  come  in,  Mr.  Darsie  ?  " 

"Ay,  come  in,  come  in,  Mr.  Carmichael,"  cried  the 
creaky  old  voice.  "  I'm  sure  ye're  heartily  welcome." 

There  was  not  many  men  in  the  town  for  whom,  at 
this  particular  hour  of  the  twenty-four,  the  grocer  would 
have  risen  to  his  feet  and  placed  a  chair;  but  he  had  a 
profound  respect,  if  not  for  the  bands,  at  least  for  the 
college  gown. 

"  Have  a  drop  of  something  hot  ? "  he  asked,  apolo- 
getically. 

"  No,  thanks ;  but  I  shall  enjoy  seeing  you  have  it. 
How  cosy  you  look !  " 

And  then  they  both  relapsed  into  silence,  as  men  do 
who  are  at  ease  in  each  other's  society. 
3 


28  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Weel,"  said  the  old  man  at  last,  "  have  ye  been  read- 
ing onything  new  in  a  theological  way  since  I  saw  ye  ? " 

The  other  laughed  and  shook  his  head.  "  Pastoral 
visitations,  Mr.  Darsie,"  he  said.  "  Nothing  but  pas- 
toral visitations !  " 

Now-a-days  all  our  young  preachers,  and  most  of 
their  hearers,  are  dashed  with  free-thought,  modern  sci- 
ence, and  German  philosophy;  but,  at  the  time  of  which 
I  write,  Essays  and  Reviews  was  still  a  comparatively 
recent  work.  We  have  gained  much  since  then,  no 
doubt;  but  some  things  at  least  we  have  lost.  We  have 
lost  the  subtle  thrill  of  intense  delight  with  which  an 
awakening  mind  scented  a  kindred  mind  from  afar; 
we  have  lost  the  exhilarating  sensation  of  being  in  the 
vanguard;  our  treasured  watchword,  which  seemed  to 
us  eternal,  has  become  an  empty  shibboleth,  and  we  are 
thankful  to  fall  back  on  that  which  binds  us,  not  to  the 
few,  but  to  the  many. 

We  were  so  young  then !  We  had  not  guessed — what 
the  years  have  since  taught  us  so  abundantly! — how 
trivial  a  matter  is  mere  intellectual  agreement  after  all. 
What  we  learned  in  the  watches  of  the  night,  with 
strong  crying  and  tears  and  groanings  that  cannot  be 
uttered,  may  be  picked  up  now  in  the  pages  of  a  popular 
magazine ;  and  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  formula 
cannot  guess  all  it  meant  to  those  who  felt  the  fact. 

Yet,  when  all  is  said,  the  recollection  of  the  time 
"  when  we  felt  the  days  before  us  "  is  something  with 
which  we  would  not  lightly  part :  the  sensation  once  ex- 
perienced is  ours  for  ever.  To  us  too  it  was  given  to 
see  the  sunrise — 

"  Bliss  was  it  in  that  dawn  to  be  alive, 
But  to  be  young  was  very  heaven." 

So  the  reader  may  imagine  the  rush  of  delighted 
surprise  with  which  Mr.  Carmichael,  when  he  first  came 
to  Queensmains,  found  on  the  grocer's  bookshelves,  not 
only  the  orthodox  divines  who  are  a  literary  staple  in 
every  middle-class  Scotch  household,  but  also  such  writ- 
ers as  Maurice,  Robertson  of  Brighton,  Macleod  Camp- 
bell, and  Erskine  of  Linlathen.  I  do  not  mean  to  imply 


IN  THE  GROCER'S  PARLOUR.        29 

that  Mr.  Carmichael  was  what,  even  in  those  days,  would 
have  been  termed  a  heretic,  for  the  effect  of  his  wider 
reading  had  been,  not  to  shake  his  faith,  but  rather  to 
encircle  his  creed  with  a  sunny  margin  of  hope  and 
charity.  It  was  the  spiritual,  rather  than  the  intellec- 
tual, fibres  in  him  that  had  vibrated  to  the  words  of  the 
teachers  I  have  named,  and  it  was  natural  that  at  first, 
in  his  youth  and  inexperience,  he  should  imagine  the 
bond  of  union  between  himself  and  the  grocer  to  be 
stronger  than  it  really  was. 

For  Mr.  Darsie's  was  hardly  a  devotional  nature.  It 
may  almost  be  said  of  him  that  he  collected  theological 
books  and  theological  views  as  other  men  collect  butter- 
flies or  stamps  or  rare  china.  Among  the  green  pastures 
and  beside  the  still  waters  he  wandered  as  far  as  he 
readily  could,  but  his  tether  was  short. 

His  shrewd  grey  eyes  disappeared  now,  as  they  were 
apt  to  do  when  he  was  amused. 

"  An'  what  ails  ye  at  pastoral  visitations  ? "  he  said. 

The  young  man  rose  to  his  feet,  and  paced  up  and 
down  the  tiny  room. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  it  was  Dr.  Hanna  who  pointed 
out  how  tremendously  '  churchy '  we  Presbyterians  are, 
for  people  who  pride  themselves  on  their  Protestant 
principles.  You,  with  your  views,  must  wonder  how 
anyone  can  see  anything  more  in  me  than  a  crude  well- 
meaning  young  man,  and  yet,  from  the  way  some  people 
treat  me,  I  might  be  the  priesthood  incarnate." 

He  paused,  but  his  friend  only  ventured  on  an  ap- 
preciative smile. 

"What  I  long  to  draw  the  line  at  is  'speaking  to' 
people.  You  know  the  hushed  monotone  in  which  the 
expression  is  used.  Heaven  knows  I  give  them  of  my 
best — such  as  it  is — in  the  pulpit!  But  who  am  I  that 
I  should  pursue  them  into  their  lairs?  Of  course  there 
are  moments  when  one  must  speak:  the  fire  is  kindled 
and  it  must  blaze :  the  sphere  is  charged  with  electricity 
and  the  spark  must  pass.  But  '  speaking '  in  cold  blood 
to  a  fellow-creature  who,  in  overwhelming  probability, 
is  listening  in  even  colder  blood — upon  my  soul,  Darsie, 
it  is  more  than  any  human  being  has  a  right  to  ask." 


30  WINDYHAUGH. 

The  old  man's  face  broke  into  furrows  again.  "  Who 
have  you  been  speaking  to  now  ?  " 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  answer  that,  of  course ; 
but  of  one  I  may  tell  you — it  is  almost  absurd — a  child 
of  seven  whose  grandmother  is  half  in  despair  about 
her  salvation." 

"  I  ken  fine  who  that'll  be— little  Miss  Williamina." 

The  minister  looked  greatly  taken  aback.  "  Do  you 
know  her  ? " 

"  I  do  that.  My  word,  Mr.  Carmichael,  but  that's  a 
golden  girl !  If  your  seed  came  to  naught,  it  wasna  the 
fault  o'  the  soil." 

The  young  man  seated  himself  again,  his  chin  in 
his  hands,  his  earnest  eyes  fixed  on  the  queer  little  figure 
opposite. 

"  It  is  quite  obvious,"  he  said,  "  that  the  sooner  you 
and  I  change  places  the  better.  The  grocery  business 
would  suffer,  of  course;  but  the  other  is  usually  con- 
sidered more  important.  If  you  have  been  able  to  get 
into  touch  with  that  child " 

The  grocer  beamed  in,  his  placid  self-content.  She's 
a  great  friend  o'  mine  is  little  Miss  Williamina." 

"  Then  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  whether  the  old  lady 
is  quite  sane." 

"  I'm  no'  layin'  claim  to  the  friendship  o'  Mistress 
Galbraith.  But  she's  sane  enough  when  ye  consider  her 
point  o'  view.  Her  only  son — that's  Williamina's  father 
— turned  out  a  wastrel,  and  she  hands  hersel'  responsible 
to  God  for  him.  She  is  persuaded  her  time  is  at  han', 
and,  when  she  dies,  Williamina  goes  to  her  father.  If 
a'  be  true  o'  him  that  folks  say,  it's  sma'  wonner  that 
she's  keen  to  see  the  bairn  on  a  sure  footin'." 

"  And  is  there  anything  in  the  child  ? " 

The  old  man  stared.  "  Onything  in  her  ?  My 
word!  I  niver  met  the  bairn  yet  wi'  the  promise  o' 
Williamina." 

The  minister  looked  up  with  the  expression  of  one 
who  schools  himself  to  docility. 

"  Go  on.     Talk.     Tell  me  about  her." 

"  Weel,"  said  the  grocer,  the  warmth  of  his  feelings 
fusing  his  speech  into  broader  vernacular,  "she  just 


IN  THE  GROCER'S  PARLOUR.        31 

beats  a'thing.  In  ae  sense,  she's  no  bairn  ava.  She's  a 
woman  grown.  She  has  a  grup  o'  doctrine " 

He  paused  in  search  of  suitable  words,  and  the  young 
man  took  advantage  of  the  pause. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  he  asked  drily.  "  What  interests  me, 
Darsie,  is  to  know  how  you  found  it  out.  I  am  free  to 
confess  that  she  didn't  inflict  much  of  her  doctrinal 
erudition  on  me.  You  must  have  found  an  inflammable 
corner  somewhere.  Where  was  it?  and  how  did  you 
chance  to  light  upon  it  ? " 

"  Hoot,  I  nae  ken.  I've  a  sittin'  ahint  Mistress  Gal- 
braith  i'  the  kirk,  and  it  was  aye  a  real  divert  to  see  that 
bairn  tackle  the  sermon.  Yon  earnest  bit  facie  was  a 
picter.  I  spoke  till  her  aboot  it  ae  day  when  her 
nurse  left  her  here  i'  the  shop — she's  an  awf u'  lassie,  yon. 
I  doot  we'll  hear  o'  mischief  yet.  But  the  bairn  took 
no  heed.  Then  anither  day  I  said,  says  I,  '  It's  a  peety 
but  what  you  had  been  a  boy,  and  you'd  ha'  gien  us  a 
fine  sermon  yersel'  some  day.'  Then  in  a  meenit  oot  it 
cam — '  You  see,  Mr.  Darsie,  perhaps  I'm  not  even  one 
of  the  elect.' " 

The  minister  smiled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  she  has  any  notion  of 
what  it  all  means  ?  " 

"  She  has  that." 

"  And  you  think  she  is  unhappy  ?  " 

"  I've  nae  doobt  ava  that  she's  '  unhappy,'  as  ye  ca' 
it;  but  at  her  age  the  Lord  tempers  the  wind." 

The  young  man  rose  to  his  feet  once  more.  "But, 
my  dear  friend,  as  you  have  found  your  way  to  her  con- 
fidence, can't  you  help  her?  It  is  awful  to  think  of  a 
baby  like  that  worrying  over  election.  At  her  age  it 
is  so  easy  to  believe  that  God  is  Love.  It  seems  to  me 
that  a  few  words  from  one  she  trusted  would  put  her 
right." 

It  was  some  minutes  before  the  old  man  answered. 
When  he  did,  the  rare  look  of  elevation  had  risen  to  his 
worn  face. 

"  At  my  age,  Mr.  Carmichael,  ye'll  no'  talk  sae  glib 
o'  puttin'  folk  right.  I've  seen  them  that  were  better 
men  when  they  were  seekin'  God,  than  when  they  were 


32  WINDYHAUGH. 

sure  they  had  found  Him.  I'm  no  scholar  like  you,  but 
I  seem  to  mind  the  story  o'  a  King  of  England — you'll 
ken  it  fine — who  was  lookin'  frae  his  castle  at  the  battle. 
His  ain  son  was  sore  beset  i'  the  thick  o'  the  fight,  and 
the  nobles  were  keen  to  send  somebody  to  his  relief. 
But  '  No,'  said  the  King,  '  let  the  lad  win  his  spurs.' 
That's  what  I  say  o'  Williamina.  It's  no'  a'body  that's 
worth  it ;  but  she  is.  Let  her  win  her  spurs." 

He  spoke  so  earnestly  that  the  minister  was  im- 
pressed, but  a  few  minutes  later  he  returned  to  the 
charge. 

"  Frankly,"  he  said,  "  I  disagree  with  you  from  first 
to  last.  I  don't  admit  that  it  is  a  question  of  spiritual 
experience  at  all.  At  her  age  we  are — mainly — what  our 
circumstances  make  us.  All  her  life  she  has  been  hear- 
ing of  justification,  sanctification,  election,  and  reproba- 
tion, and  she  talks  of  these  things  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Other  children  hear  about  natural  history,  or  steam- 
boats, or  agriculture,  and  talk  of  them.  Where  is  the 
difference?  If  I  went  in  for  betting,  I  should  be  pre- 
pared to  bet  that  Wilhelmina  does  not  know  the  name 
of  a  bird  or  a  flower  that  she  meets  in  her  walks.  She 
must  occupy  her  mind  with  something.  One  child  calls 
its  doll  Beelzebub,  and  another  calls  its  doll  Tweedle- 
dee;  but  the  dolls  are  the  same,  and,  for  all  I  can  see, 
the  children  are  the  same." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  with  a  quiet  smile  of 
superiority.  He  did  not  reflect  that  the  minister's  ar- 
gument would  include  others  besides  Wilhelmina;  but, 
like  the  rest  of  us,  he  had  a  strong  sympathy  with  a 
taste  that  ran  in  harness  with  his  own. 

u  Na,  na,  sir !  "  he  cried.  "  Williamina  is  no'  the 
first  bairn  that  was  brought  up  in  a  pious  home." 

The  minister's  face  fell  into  lines  of  deep  thought, 
and  it  was  some  minutes  before  he  spoke  again.  "  I 
don't  know,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  I  am  justified  in  ex- 
pressing my  thoughts  in  the  making — even  to  you;  but 
it  does  seem  to  me  that,  even  if  your  view  be  right,  such 
a  state  of  things  is  most  abnormal  and  undesirable. 
You  know  they  tell  us  now-a-days  that  the  development 
of  the  race  is  repeated  in  the  development  of  each  indi- 


IN  THE  GROCER'S  PARLOUR.       83 

vidual,  and  although  of  course  one  may  carry  such  a 
parallel  too  far,  I  do  think  that  in  a  sense  a  child  should 
begin  life  as  a  healthy  pagan,  taking  the  world  for 
granted  as  God's  world,  and  certainly  not  analysing 
its  own  beliefs  and  feelings.  If  there  be  any  truth  in 
my  half -fledged  fancy,  your  little  friend  is  simply  pre- 
cocious— abnormal — scarcely  human. 

The  old  man  rose  to  his  feet.  "Na,  na,  Mr.  Car- 
michael ! "  he  said.  "  I  canna  sit  still  an'  hear  ye  say 
that,  even  if  ye  dinna  richtly  mean  it.  Scarcely  hu- 
man ! — little  Williamina !  "  He  walked  slowly  over  to 
the  cupboard.  "I  didna  think  to  show  it  to  onybody, 
but  I'll  show  it  to  you,"  he  said,  and  he  put  something 
into  the  minister's  hand. 

Mr.  Carmichael  surveyed  the  treasure  solemnly  for  a 
moment. 

"  It  seems  to  require  an  explanation,"  he  said  at  last. 

And  so  it  did. 

It  was  a  large  and  perfect  sea-shell,  adorned  with  a 
rich  red  ribbon,  and  packed  full  of  cheap  tobacco.  To 
the  ribbon  was  attached  a  tiny  card,  on  which  were  in- 
scribed in  an  uncertain  round  hand  the  words — 

"  Mr.  Darsie,  with  Wilhelmina's  love" 

"  Ay,  ye  may  say  it  requires  an  explanation.  A  deal 
o'  thocht  an'  contrivance  went  to  the  old  man's  present. 
Whaur  she  got  the  tobacco  I  canna  say,  but  I  ken  fine 
that  she  didna  ask  her  Grannie  for  it.  The  shell,  nae 
doobt,  she  picked  up  on  the  beach,  an'  she  tied  it  up  wi'  a 
bonny  bit  ribbon  frae  ane  o'  her  dolls.  But  that's  no'  a'. 
She's  mony  a  time  seen  Mistress  Galbraith  send  a  pres- 
ent wi'  a  visiting-card  to  say  wha  it  cam'  frae.  She 
hasna  a  visiting-card,  puir  lamb !  and  she  canna  tell  her 
secret,  so  she  taks  a  Sabbath  School  ticket — I  hope  ye 
havena  forgot  the  value  o'  a  Sabbath  School  ticket,  Mr. 
Carmichael! — four  means  a  big  ane,  an'  three  big  anes 
a  little  book — and  she  writes  her  message  on  the  back. 
She  wad  hae  blotted  oot  the  text,  but  the  text  is  the 
word  o'  God,  an'  she  daurna.  So  she  draws  a  shaky  bit 
pencil-line  across  it — just  to  let  me  see  that  she  wasna 
meanin'  to  preach  me  a  sermon." 

As  he  turned  over  the  "  ticket,"  his  voice  broke  into 


34  WINDYHAUGH. 

a  cackling  laugh  that  was  half  a  sob,  and  the  minister 
read  the  words — 

"  We  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf." 

"  Any  reference  to  the  tobacco  ? "  asked  the  young 
man  flippantly. 

Then  his  face  grew  grave. 

"  I  admit  that  I  judged  the  case  on  insufficient  prem- 
ises/' he  said.  "  Your  Wilhelmina  is  certainly  human." 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  sun  was  obscured  by  leaden  clouds,  and  a  tem- 
pest raged  over  Windyhaugh. 

Never  had  the  old  homestead  been  in  a  more  sinister 
mood  than  now.  Night  itself  has  no  darkness  so  drear 
as  the  shade  of  the  limes  that  day  at  noon.  The  rain 
dashed  drearily  against  the  window-panes,  and  the  trees 
slowly  tossed  their  mighty  arms  from  earth  to  firmament. 
The  air  was  full  of  the  sobbing  of  the  wind  and  wave, 
and,  as  the  evening  came  on,  every  chimney  and  corridor 
took  up  a  note  of  its  own,  and  wailed  and  shrieked  in 
sympathy.  One  might  have  fancied  ever  and  again  that 
armed  men  were  battering  against  the  doors,  or  forcing 
their  way  up  the  creaky  oaken  stair. 

Mrs.  Galbraith's  thoughts  took  an  even  gloomier  turn 
than  usual  as  she  sat  by  the  fire  with  a  great  Bible  on 
the  table  by  her  side :  the  servants  neglected  their  work, 
and  conversed  in  awe-struck  whispers.  Wilhelmina  felt 
sure  that  the  end  of  the  world  had  come. 

And  she  was  still  unsaved. 

Every  nerve  in  her  body  vibrated  to  the  storm,  and 
for  terror  her  tongue  well-nigh  clave  to  the  roof  of  her 
mouth.  The  sight  of  the  supper  that  often  seemed  lim- 
ited enough  was  loathsome  to  her;  she  would  have  left 
it  untasted,  but  that  Jane  might  have  seized  the  occa- 
sion to  taunt  her  with  being  afraid;  and  she  could  not 


THE  PEOCESS  OF  WINNING  ONE'S  SPURS.       35 

bring  herself  to  speak  of  her  fear,  though,  in  the  grop- 
ing fashion  of  childhood,  she  fancied  the  others  shared  it. 
This  must  be  why  her  grandmother  looked  so  stern; 
she  expected  the  Son  of  Man.  The  impending  day  of 
wrath  must  be  the  subject  of  the  servants'  whispers. 
How  relieved  the  child  would  have  been  had  she  known 
that  they  only  talked  of  ghosts,  robbers,  murder,  and 
sudden  death! 

Surely  nothing  is  more  amusing  and  pathetic  than 
the  want  of  perspective  in  a  child's  knowledge  of  the 
world  and  of  humanity !  In  one  place  we  find  the  focus 
sharp  and  clear,  and  we  do  not  guess  that  close  at  hand 
is  an  outline  magnified  and  blurred  beyond  all  recogni- 
tion. Poor  little  Wilhelmina!  Do  you  think  it  would 
be  thus  that  your  friends  would  await  the  coming  of  the 
Judge  ? 

Things  nearly  came  to  a  climax  when  Jane  left  her 
charge  in  bed  and  went  down  to  the  kitchen  for  com- 
pany. 

"  Don't  bite  your  nails,"  she  had  said  sharply,  as  she 
brushed  the  silky  brown  hair.  "  It's  the  sign  of  a  bad 
conscience." 

Bad  conscience,  indeed!  It  was  the  sign  of  a  nerv- 
ous system  strained  almost  beyond  endurance;  but  Jane 
was  nervous  herself  to-night,  and  well-nigh  as  self-cen- 
tred as  Wilhelmina.  Of  course  she  knew  that  her  charge 
would  rather  not  be  left  alone;  but  she  did  not  guess 
the  measureless  dread  with  which  the  prospect  was  re- 
garded. She  had  not  the  least  idea  of  the  amount  of 
self-control  it  took  to  keep  the  child  from  crying  out, 
"  Don't  leave  me !  " 

She  paused  on  the  threshold,  however,  and  threw  a 
sop  to  her  own  kindlier  nature.  "  Go  to  sleep,  like  a 
good  girl,"  she  said.  "  I'll  bring  you  one  of  those  penny 
dolls  to-morrow,  when  I  go  to  town." 

A  quiver  of  relief  shot  through  the  child's  frame. 
A  penny  doll  is  not  much  to  set  over  against  the  terrors 
of  eternal  doom;  but,  if  Jane  could  even  speak  or  think 
of  buying  dolls,  she  must  have  a  fair  hope  that  to-mor- 
row might  dawn  even  as  to-day,  and  all  the  dear  earthly 
days  behind  it,  had  dawned. 


36  WINDYHAUGH. 

"Don't  pull  down  the  blind,  please,"  said  the  child 
very  quietly  in  a  small  shaky  voice. 

"Are  you  cold?" 

"No— not  very." 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  look  out  ?  You'll  never  go  to 
sleep  if  you  watch  those  trees.  They're  not  cannie  to- 
night." 

But  Wilhelmina  carried  her  point.  She  did  not  want 
to  watch  the  trees  at  all:  it  terrified  her  to  see  them — 
now  grovelling  with  head  and  arms  down  to  earth,  and 
again  sweeping  themselves  up  as  if  in  a  last  despairing 
appeal  to  Heaven;  but  she  wanted  to  watch  the  sky,  to 
see  that  night  came  on  steadily  and  normally,  without 
any  of  the  "signs"  that  might  be  supposed  to  herald 
the  great  trump.  The  season  was  late,  and  a  crowd  of 
green  and  yellow  leaves  went  whirling  and  eddying  past 
the  window-panes.  "  The  harvest  is  past ;  the  summer 
is  ended,"  they  wailed  in  their  fearsome  flight — "  and 
you  are  not  yet  saved!" 

How  good  and  reassuring  were  all  the  well-known 
commonplace  sounds,  as  they  made  themselves  heard  in 
the  pauses  of  the  storm — the  pumping  of  water  into  the 
cistern,  the  far-off  raking  of  the  kitchen  fire,  the  closing 
of  shutters  and  doors! 

Wilhelmina  was  too  young  to  seek  sleep,  and,  seek- 
ing, she  might  well  have  failed  to  find  it;  but  sleep 
understands  the  children  so  well,  and  she  came  on  this 
child  unawares,  and  folded  her  into  kind  motherly  arms. 
For  hours  she  held  the  little  one  close,  and  then  the 
riotous  nerves  broke  loose,  and  awoke  to  a  silent  house, 
and  a  raging  storm  outside. 

Minutes  passed  before  the  child  knew  what  oppressed 
her;  then  she  sprang  out  of  bed  and  ran  to  the  window. 
The  sky  was  very  dark,  and  only  dimly  could  she  see 
the  dirge-like  dance  of  the  trees.  There  were  no 
"  signs  "  here ;  but  the  window  looked  out  to  the  front, 
to  the  plantation  of  limes.  Perhaps  Christ  was  com- 
ing behind,  through  the  sky  above  the  sea.  The  sea 
was  no  obstacle  to  Him.  Had  He  not  walked  on  the 
water  long  ago? 

Shivering  with  fear,  the  little  bare  feet  stole  out  on 


THE  PROCESS  OF  WINNING  ONE'S  SPURS.      37 

the  oilcloth  that  covered  the  landing,  and  two  great  ter- 
rified eyes  looked  forth  on  the  blackness  beyond  the 
panes.  Nothing  could  be  seen — nothing — nothing. 
Her  ears  were  baffled,  deafened  by  a  multitude  of 
sounds — was  this  perchance  the  great  trump  ? — but  sight 
she  had  none. 

Suddenly — suddenly — while  she  stood,  such  a  light 
as  the  child  had  never  seen  flashed  out  over  the  sky  and 
sea,  and  distant  hills.  It  was  too  much.  Poor  tortured 
self-control  gave  way,  and  the  little  bare  feet  went  pat- 
tering— flying — into  the  nurse's  room. 

"  Jane!  "  cried  a  choking  voice.  "  Jane!  Wake  up! 
wake  up!  Christ  is  coming,  and  I  am  not  saved! " 

It  was  severe  treatment  for  a  phlegmatic  young  wom- 
an who  had  believed  in  a  general  way  all  she  had  learned 
in  Sunday  School,  without  ever  trying  very  hard  to  put  it 
in  practice.  Jane  fell  on  her  knees,  and  began  to  cry — 
then  realized  the  situation,  and  took  the  child  in  her  arms. 

"  There,  there !  "  she  said  soothingly.  "  You've  got 
into  a  state — that's  what  it  is.  I  told  you  how  it  would 
be  if  you  watched  those  trees.  There's  nothing  wrong. 
Christ  is  not  coming  at  all ! " 

Ah  me,  but  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly !  If  Christ 
had  come — if  Wilhelmina  could  have  seen  or  guessed 
who  and  what  the  eternal  Christ  was — how  surprised  she 
would  have  been! 

But  her  nurse's  pity  was  really  roused  now. 

"  You  poor  little  thing !  "  she  said.  "  Your  teeth 
are  chattering,  and  you  are  just  starved  with  cold. 
Come  into  my  bed.  There!  Put  your  head  on  my 
shoulder  and  say  your  prayers.  '  Our  Father '  " 

"  No,  no ! "  sobbed  Wilhelmina,  half  comforted,  but 
shivering  more  than  ever.  " '  Our  Father '  is  no  use. 
There's  nothing  about  salvation  in  that !  " 

And  nurse,  still  pitiful,  began  again. 

"  '  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep '  " 

Wilhelmina  joined  in,  breathing,  hard — 
'  '  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep. 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take '  " 


38  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  What's  the  use  of  praying  like  that  when  you  don't 
*  believe  '  ?  "  cried  the  traditionary  creed.  But,  with  all 
the  force  in  her  being,  Wilhelmina  closed  her  ears  to  its 
voice.  Over  and  over  again  she  repeated  the  words — 

"  '  If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take, 
And  this  I  ask  for  Jesus'  sake/  " — 

daring  God,  as  it  were,  to  send  her  to  hell  with  those 
words  on  her  lips;  and  so  kind  sleep  overtook  her  once 
more,  and  lulled  her  to  rest. 

"  Neurotic,  ill-balanced,  overstrung " 

It  may  be  so.  I  might  urge  that  Wilhelmina  simply 
believed  what  she  was  taught — or  rather  what  her  baby 
mind  could  accept  and  formulate  out  of  all  that  she  was 
taught ;  but,  if  one  is  to  attempt  the  defence  at  all,  it  is 
wiser  perhaps  to  take  the  question  on  a  wider  ground, 
and  remind  ourselves  how  flexible  is  the  nature  of  a 
child. 

"  Childhood,"  says  Dr.  Clouston,  "  is  a  condition  of 
healthy  physiological  mania  " ;  and  I  think — if  I  have 
grasped  his  teaching  aright — he  would  allow  us  to  ex- 
tend the  remark,  and  say  that  children  may  run  safely 
and  saaely  through  such  a  gamut  of  moods  and  feelings 
as,  in  the  adult,  would  almost  necessarily  imply  mental 
disease.  Nature  does  not  restrict  the  little  ones  to  the 
upper  half  of  the  key-board.  The  sorrows,  as  well  as 
the  joys,  of  childhood  are  keener  than  those  of  later  life; 
and  we  are  blind  to  this  fact  mainly  by  the  exquisite 
resiliency  with  which  the  nature  of  the  child  vibrates 
to  each  in  turn,  and  springs  without  a  jerk  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other. 

If  we  adults  could  retain  this  resiliency,  we  might 
safely  retain  the  mobility;  perhaps  the  rare  power  to 
retain  both  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  genius;  for 
is  not  the  genius  god,  madman,  or  child,  according  to 
the  point  of  view  from  which  we  regard  him? — or  ac- 
cording to  the  note  he  sounds  at  the  moment  on  the 
gamut  of  human  life? 

"  Neurotic,  ill-balanced,  overstrung " 


THE  PROCESS  OF  WINNING  ONE'S  SPURS.       39 

It  may  be  so,  but  who  shall  describe  the  rapture  of 
Wilhelmina's  awakening?  Who  shall  describe  the  ex- 
quisite reaction  into  sanity  with  which  she  sprang  up  in 
bed  to  see  the  dear  old  sun  blazing  down  on  a  world  all 
fresh  and  fragrant,  and  dripping  with  yesterday's  rain? 

Are  we  not  apt  to  overdo  our  pity  for  those  who  at 
times  are  "  troubled  by  an  evil  spirit  from  the  Lord  "  ? 
They  are  not  necessarily  of  finer  calibre  than  their  fel- 
lows; but  one  thing  at  least  is  preeminently  theirs — the 
joy  of  being  sane.  It  is  a  mistake  to  attribute  this  joy  to 
the  man  whose  mental  and  spiritual  life  resembles  a  suc- 
cessful jogtrot  along  the  highway.  It  is  possible  to  be 
so  sane  that  one  does  not  know  what  sanity  means. 

Jane  showed  herself  amazingly  tactful  that  morning. 
She  was  kind,  without  being  effusively  so.  There  was 
nothing  in  her  manner  that  forcibly  reminded  Wilhel- 
mina  of  the  unparalleled  self -revelation  of  the  night  be- 
fore, and  for  this  the  child  was  tacitly  grateful.  In 
truth  Jane's  conscience  had  received  a  shake.  It  was  a 
vulnerable  citadel  at  the  best  of  times,  and  particularly 
so  just  now.  She  had  vague  thoughts  that  morning  of 
turning  certain  traitors  out  of  the  garrison ;  but,  before 
taking  any  important  step,  she  decided  to  make  a  few 
general  enquiries  about  the  Second  Coming,  lihe  old 
gardener  was  reported  to  have  strong  views  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  she  determined  to  consult  him ;  then  burst  into 
hysterical  laughter  as  she  fancied  she  heard  him  reply, 
"  He'll  be  round  i'  the  tail  o'  the  week! " 

She  was  shocked  at  her  own  profanity,  and  put  up  a 
mental  prayer  for  forgiveness.  Poor  Jane!  She  judged 
her  own  sins  and  peccadilloes  by  a  curiously  arbitrary 
standard — a  standard  that  gave  the  Almighty  little 
credit  for  any  sense  of  humour. 

But  what  put  the  crowning  touch  to  Wilhelmina's 
happiness  that  morning  was  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Galbraith 
remained  in  bed  to  breakfast.  The  old  lady  never  al- 
lowed herself  such  an  indulgence  without  serious  cause, 
so  no  doubt  she  was  suffering  a  great  deal  in  mind  or 
body ;  but  it  did  not  occur  to  Wilhelmina  to  look  at  the 
matter  from  that  point  of  view.  The  aspect  of  it  that 


40  WINDYHAUGH. 

occupied  her  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  was 
the  expectation  that  the  servants  would  seize  the  oppor- 
tunity to  send  up  a  crisp  rasher  of  bacon,  or  a  slice  of 
cold  pie,  for  breakfast,  along  with  the  invariable  por- 
ridge; and  that  Jane — being  in  so  delectable  a  frame 
of  mind — would  allow  her  to  run  out  and  play  by  herself 
the  moment  the  choice  morsel  was  disposed  of. 

How  she  did  run ! — with  her  pinafore  flapping  in  the 
wind,  and  her  sun-bonnet  blown  back  from  the  ruined 
hair!  Tail-o'-the-week  was  at  work  in  a  little  garden 
close  by,  digging  some  "  seedy  "  and  storm-tost  annuals 
into  the  ground.  Wilhelmina  caught  hold  of  the  railing 
with  sunburnt  fists,  and  looked  through  with  pitiful  eyes. 

"  Will  they  come  up  again  ? "  she  asked  shyly. 

The  old  man  chuckled. 

"Na,  na,  Missy,"  he  said.  "They'll  no'  come  up 
again." 

So  she  frowned  and  danced  away.  It  jarred  on  her 
mood  to  see  the  poor  things  being  buried  out  of  the  sun- 
shine this  wonderful  morning.  It  was  pleasanter  to 
watch  the  trees.  They  seemed  so  happy  as  they  laughed 
and  clapped  their  hands  by  the  wayside. 

"  It's  as  if  they  had  been  praying  for  something  last 
night,  and  had  got  it  now,"  thought  Wilhelmina.  But 
this  faricy  too  was  speedily  cast  aside  as  being  too  pain- 
fully suggestive.  Happy  though  the  child  was,  she  was 
firmly  persuaded  that  she  had  not  got  what  she  had 
prayed  for. 

And  now  she  was  down  on  the  beach,  singing  softly 
to  herself  while  the  blue  waves  tossed  their  white  caps 
merrily  into  the  air.  She  enjoyed,  without  analysing, 
the  vivid  intensity  of  colour.  A  stray  brown  sail  glowed 
red  as  fire ;  a  white  one  gleamed  like  Lohengrin's  mantle. 

All  the  poet  in  Wilhelmina  awoke  and  struggled  for 
expression — so  she  gathered  nice  flat  stones,  and,  with 
shrieks  of  triumph,  sent  them  skimming  over  the  blue. 

Happy  Wilhelmina! 

Jane  went  into  town  that  day ;  but  she  forgot  to  buy 
the  penny  doll.  No  matter:  the  penny  doll  had  served 
its  turn. 


AT  THE  COSMOPOLTS.  41 

CHAPTER  VII. 

AT   THE   COSMOPOLIS. 

A  DRIZZLING  rain  fell  softly  on  deserted  London 
streets;  but  the  bright  fagade  of  the  Hotel  Cosmopolis 
stretched  out  inviting  arms  into  the  dusk. 

The  day  had  been  oppressively  warm,  and  Enid  Dal- 
rymple  was  very  tired;  or,  as  she  would  have  expressed 
it,  London  was  sordid,  Pearson  obtuse,  Hugh  indescrib- 
ably exasperating,  life  a  slow  meaningless  martyrdom. 
It  was  cheering,  after  the  dust  and  tedium  of  the  jour- 
ney, to  see  that  brightly-lighted  vista  with  its  crimson 
floor-cloths,  fine  palms,  and  groups  of  immaculate 
waiters. 

"  Tell  them  where  to  put  the  luggage,  Pearson,"  she 
said  wearily,  as  they  waited  for  the  lift  to  ascend,  "  and 
take  the  children  straight  to  their  room.  Order  supper 
for  them  there,  and  tell  the  chambermaid  I  want  a  bath 
in  my  own  room  immediately." 

Hugh  stole  a  grimy  little  paw  coaxingly  into  his 
mother's  hand. 

"  I'm  going  to  dine  with  you,  Mother  dear,"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  air  of  sublime  impartial 
justice.  After  a  long  day  of  ineffectual  strife  and  pro- 
test her  turn  had  come  at  last. 

"  You  have  not  made  your  society  so  delightful  to 
me  during  the  day,  Hugh,"  she  said  quietly,  "  that  I 
should  care  to  have  any  more  of  it." 

"  I  couldn't  help  it.  The  train  was  so  beastly  hot 
and  shaky.  Please,  Mother !  I  do  want  a  glass  of  cham- 
pagne." . 

"  Ah !     You  should  have  thought  of  that  before." 

He  scowled.  "  It's  not  fair  to  treat  me  just  as  you 
treat  Gavin." 

"Not  at  all  fair.  Gavin  would  have  behaved  like  a 
little  gentleman  if  you  had  allowed  him.  If  I  wanted 
company,  I  should  take  him  down  to  dine  with  me;  but 
he  is  too  tired,  poor  little  man." 


42  WINDYHATJGH. 

"  I'm  not  tired,  Muwy  dear,"  piped  Gavin  in  that 
clear,  sweet,  penetrating  voice  of  his.  "  I  want  some 
champagne  too." 

"  Hush,  hush !  "  They  were  up  on  the  first  floor  now, 
and  Enid  looked  round  with  an  amused,  shocked,  apolo- 
getic smile.  She  could  seldom  ignore  the  existence  of 
a  possible  audience. 

This  time  the  audience  consisted  of  a  few  chamber- 
maids and  one  guest,  a  fine-looking  man  with  one  of 
those  inscrutable  faces  that  pique  curiosity. 

"  Champagne ! "  he  said,  pinching  Gavin's  dainty 
pink  ear.  "  You've  begun  early,  young  man.  What  do 
you  say  to  a  brandy-and-soda  with  me  in  the  billiard- 
room?" 

"Why,  George!  It  is  a  pleasure  to  see  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Dalrymple  with  a  restful  sigh  that  was  infinitely 
flattering.  "  I  can't  think  what  has  put  such  an  absurd 
idea  into  the  children's  heads.  I  don't  believe  they  have 
ever  tasted  champagne." 

"  Oh,  Mother !  "  protested  Hugh.  His  brow  ran  into 
furrows  as  he  proceeded  to  formulate  his  statistics  on 
the  subject,  but  this  time  his  mother's  glance  was  suffi- 
cient to  silence  even  him. 

Of  course  the  glance  did  not  escape  George  Gal- 
braith.  Few  things  did.  He  knew  Enid  Dalrymple 
well,  and  appreciated  most  of  her  pretty  poses.  Natu- 
rally he  liked  her  all  the  better  for  them.  A  woman 
without  foibles  was  to  his  mind  destitute  of  that  atmos- 
phere through  which  alone  she  could  form  a  sane  opin- 
ion as  to  the  proportions  of  the  other  sex. 

"  Are  you  alone  ?  "  he  said.  "  Come,  that's  right ! 
You'll  dine  with  me,  of  course.  What  time  shall  we 
say  ?  A  quarter  past  eight  ?  I'll  go  down  and  see  what 
they  pan  do  for  us." 

His  step  was  light  and  he  hummed  an  air  as  he  ran 
down  the  broad  easy  staircase.  He  had  scarcely  thought 
of  Enid  for  months,  and  now  she  had  come  into  his  life 
at  the  very  moment  he  would  have  chosen.  So  clever  of 
her!  Money  chanced  to  be  plentiful,  he  was  hun- 
gry, he  wanted  to  be  amused;  and,  behold,  Providence 
dropped  down  for  his  delectation  a  woman  beautiful  and 


AT  THE  COSMOPOLIS.  43 

fascinating,  a  woman  who  knew  one  man  from  another, 
and  who  yet  was  content  to  take  men  as  she  found  them 
— above  all  a  woman  who  really,  without  any  pretence, 
understood  that  a  good  dinner  does  not  mean  an  in- 
terminable series  of  kickshaws  and  a  glass  of  sweet 
champagne. 

The  head  waiter  thoroughly  appreciated  the  impor- 
tance of  the  situation,  and  the  dinner  of  which  he  and 
Mr.  Galbraith  drew  out  the  sketch  between  them  was 
quite  a  little  poem  in  its  way. 

George  Galbraith  might  or  might  not  enjoy  the  un- 
qualified respect  of  his  equals,  but  there  could  be  no 
doubt  whatever  as  to  the  estimation  in  which  he  was 
held  by  the  whole  class  of  men-servants.  For  them  he 
was  a  real  gentleman — a  gentleman  after  their  own 
hearts.  Even  their  practised  eyes  never  detected  the 
cloven  foot.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world  in  all  things, 
down  to  his  most  trifling  possession,  his  most  involuntary 
habit.  Frank  and  openhanded,  he  yet  was  possessed  of 
a  reserve  unlike  the  reserve  of  other  men — a  certain 
aloofness  which  was  always  present  as  the  shadow  side 
of  his  gaiety,  an  aloofness  of  which  he  had  been  uncon- 
scious until  a  sense  of  its  market  value  had  been  thrust 
upon  him. 

"  You  think  I  play  the  game  rather  well,"  he  seemed 
to  be  saying  with  mild  surprise.  "  Au  contraire,  I  have 
never  exerted  myself  to  play  it  at  all.  I  am  out  of  the 
running.  But  at  least  I  see  through  your  game." 

"  Damned  impertinence !  "  a  friend  of  his  youth  was 
wont  to  say.  "  You'd  think  the  fellow  was  Jove  himself, 
and  we  his  puppets.  And  I'd  like  to  know  what  he  has 
done  to  qualify  himself  for  the  role  beyond  failing  in 
the  work  he  put  his  hand  to !  " 

Thus  variously  was  George  Galbraith  reflected  in  the 
eyes  of  his  fellow-men. 

Reverently,  and  with  the  hand  of  a  master,  the  waiter 
uncorked  a  dusty  old  bottle,  and,  as  he  placed  it  on  the 
table,  he  wondered  whether  it  was  within  the  limits  of 
reasonable  expectation  that  the  unknown  quantity,  the 
lady,  could  be  on  a  level  with  the  other  factors — includ- 
ing, of  course,  himself — in  so  exquisite  an  entertainment. 
•  4 


44  WINDYHAUGH. 

And  I  think  most  women  would  have  felt  their  sex 
abundantly  justified  for  the  moment  in  Enid,  had  they 
seen  the  effect  she  produced  as  she  entered  the  room 
with  a  self -consciousness  so  perfect  as  to  be  impercepti- 
ble. Her  full,  sunny-white  throat  rose  vividly  above  the 
soft  black  draperies;  her  tawny  hair,  kindling  into  red 
gold  in  the  shaded  light,  was  arranged  as  only  an  artist 
can  arrange  it — in  that  great  loose  knot  that  suggests 
how  readily  it  would  fall  in  a  cloud  about  the  owner's 
shoulders. 

The  waiter's  bow  was  less  perfect  than  usual:  he 
was  taken  aback.  The  faintest  ripple  of  expression 
passed  over  Mr.  Galbraith's  sensitive  face,  but  he  met 
her  eye  only  for  a  moment  with  his  courteous,  conven- 
tional smile.  He  was  too  much  of  an  epicure  to  exhaust 
his  enjoyment  in  a  draught.  He  could  afford  to  wait. 

"It's  awfully  mean  of  Mother,"  Hugh  was  exclaim- 
ing upstairs.  "  I  am  sure  Uncle  George  would  have 
liked  to  have  me  too." 

Pearson  laughed.  She  was  much  more  tired  than  the 
others,  and  she  had  little  sense  of  humour  at  the  best 
of  times;  but  Hugh's  remark  appealed  forcibly  to  such 
as  she  had. 

He  felt  he  had  said  something  naive,  and  he  hated  to 
be  naive.  That  was  Gavin's  role. 

"  Just  wait  till  to-morrow  when  Mother  is  buying  me 
things  for  school,  and  wants  me  to  care"  he  said  fierce- 
ly. "  She'll  see  that  somebody  else  can  be  horrid 
too." 

"  There,  there !  "  said  Pearson,  at  the  end  of  her  pa- 
tience. "  It's  easily  seen  that  what  you  want  is  a  good 
night's  sleep." 

And,  writhing  under  this  final  insult,  the  poor  little 
man  of  the  world  betook  himself  to  bed. 

Downstairs,  conversation  did  not  flow  very  freely  just 
at  first,  and  they  were  both  too  wise  to  force  it.  It  was 
sufficient  for  the  moment  to  relax,  to  appreciate  and  to 
feel  oneself  appreciated,  to  smile  those  little  smiles 
that  mean  so  much  and  that  seem  to  mean  even  more. 


AT  THE  COSMOPOLIS.  45 

Life  gives  us  some  very  good  half -hours  when  youth  is 
past  and  we  have  ceased  to  demand  the  impossible. 

Dessert  was  on  the  table  before  Mr.  Galbraith  said 
casually,  "  I  took  it  for  granted  that  you  were  in  Norway 
with  Fergus." 

"  Did  you  ?  I  fancied  you  knew  me  better.  Before 
Norway  is  furbished  up  to  the  level  of  my  requirements, 
I  shall  be  ambling  along  marine  parades  in  a  bath-chair. 
No,  no.  Fergus  and  I  are  old  married  folk.  We  live 
and  let  live.  Guess  where  I  went  after  leaving  Perth- 
shire." 

He  shook  his  head  lazily,  but  his  smile  was  full  of 
subtle  flattery.  "  I  can't  guess.  My  faculties  are  other- 
wise employed.  Be  kind  and  tell  me." 

"Windyhaugh." 

She  pronounced  the  word  suddenly,  and  raised  her 
eyes  to  watch  the  effect. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  change  that  came  over 
his  face.  It  was  instantaneous,  but  for  that  instant  Enid 
almost  felt  as  if  she  had  struck  him. 

"  Did  the  Highlands  prove  so  exciting,  then,"  he 
asked,  with  elaborate  carelessness,  "  that  you  were  forced 
to  go  into  retreat  at  once  ? " 

He  really  wondered  very  much  what  had  induced  her 
to  go;  but  he  knew  he  was  more  likely  to  find  out  if  he 
did  not  ask.  In  point  of  fact  she  could  scarcely  with 
decency  have  told  him  that  it  had  suited  her  convenience 
to  send  the  boys  there  for  a  time,  and  that  she  had 
thought  it  only  fair  to  follow  up  the  bitter  draught  with 
a  sugarplum  in  the  shape  of  her  charming  self. 

"  I  went  for  pleasure,  of  course,"  she  said,  menda- 
ciously. "  Windyhaugh  is  charming — just  the  sort  of 
place  one  reads  of  in  books." 

"  Is  it  ?  That  is  the  kind  of  book  I  make  a  point  of 
dodging." 

"  And  your  mother  is  a  wonderful  old  lady,  George." 

He  bowed  gravely. 

His  face  was  quite  impenetrable  now  as  he  held  his 
wine-glass  against  the  light,  but  it  was  some  seconds  be- 
fore he  could  bring  himself  to  say — 

"And  Wilhelmina?" 


46  WINDYHAUGH. 

Enid  thought  her  little  laugh  was  perfect,  but  there 
was  a  note  of  apology  in  it  that  spoke  volumes. 

"  Oh,  she  is  the  quaintest  little  woman  imaginable — 
so  old-fashioned ! " 

"  Poor  little  soul ! "  His  accent  was  pitying,  but 
scarcely  fatherly.  He  was  thinking  more  of  his  own 
past  than  of  Wilhelmina's  present. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  think  the  life  suits  her.  If 
she  were  a  different  sort  of  child,  one  might  be  almost 
sorry  for  her.  The  life  is  a  little — well,  it  isn't  a  gay 
life." 

He  filled  her  glass. 

"  No,"  he  said  dispassionately.  "  When  I  recall  those 
days,  '  gay  'is  not  the  adjective  that  suggests  itself." 

"  Poor  boy !  I  know.  I  often  thought  of  you. 

Even  Hugh  and  Gavin !  But  it  is  different  for  a 

girl,  and  Wilhelmina  is  such  a  sedate  little  maiden." 

He  nodded.  "It  is  a  great  thing  for  a  girl  to  be 
brought  up  sheltered — in  a  quiet  haven." 

"No  doubt.  Still — perhaps  as  your  daughter  she  is 
scarcely  getting  a  fair  chance.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  did 
half  mean  to  speak  to  you  about  her.  Hugh  says  she 
doesn't  understand  games  in  the  least,  and  when  I  took 
them  to  lunch  one  day  at  Spanforth  she  was  so  unlike 
the  others! — counted  up  what  the  drag  and  the  lunch 
would  cost ! " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  the  splendour  of  the  entertainment 
struck  her  as  barbaric." 

"  She  is  afraid  of  an  open  window,  too.  Think  of  it 
at  her  age !  Now  Hugh  is  old-fashioned  too  in  a  way — 
quite  grown  up — his  Uncle  Ronald  makes  so  much  of 
him — but  then  he  is  chic  and  amusing  and  makes  people 
laugh.  Wilhelmina  is  so  deadly  serious.  She  really  is 
just  your  mother  over  again." 

"  A  reversion  to  type.     That's  lucky." 

"I  used  to  love  to  have  the  child  in  my  room;  but 
when  she  sat  fathoming  my  soul  with  those  great  solemn 
eyes,  I  was  forced  to  think  of  my  sins.  They  were  so 
kind,  she  and  her  grannie,  and  yet  one  was  under  fire 
all  round,  so  to  speak.  A  frivolous  person  like  me  began 
to  long  for  a  little  close  time,  like  the  partridges." 


AT  THE  COSMOPOLIS.  47 

He  laughed  appreciatively,  and  his  eyes  caressed  her 
fair  face.  "  Poor  little  Enid !  Is  she  having  a  slice  of 
close  time  now  ?  " 

"  That  she  is !  She  is  being  just  as  wicked  as  ever 
she  likes.  Isn't  it  good  to  be  able  to  let  oneself  go  ?  " 

He  nodded. 

"  I  did  admire  your  mother  so.  She  is  a  saint  if  ever 
there  was  one,  and  looks  the  part  to  distraction.  But 
when  one  wants  good  company " 

"  One  lifts  up  the  light  of  one's  countenance  upon 
the  sinners."  His  face  was  grave.  "  Thank  you,  Enid. 
I  assure  you  they  are  not  inappreciative.  But  Wilhel- 
mina  is  young  to  be  a  saint.  Has  she  succeeded  in  *  get- 
ting converted  '  already  ?  " 

Enid- was  taken  aback.  Mrs.  Galbraith  did  not  choose 
her  confidantes  at  random.  "  Oh,  in  her  cradle,  I  should 
think,"  she  answered  flippantly. 

"  Then  she  won't  be  eternally  chivied  on  that  score. 
She's  not  pretty,  I  suppose  ? "  These  words  betrayed  a 
keener  interest  than  he  had  shown  yet. 

If  Mrs.  Dalrymple  prided  herself  on  anything  it  was 
on  her  tact.  "  She  doesn't  take  after  her  father,"  she 
said,  "  if  that  is  what  you  mean.  At  her  age  it  is  im- 
possible to  tell." 

He  sighed,  but  the  sigh  was  not  a  very  deep  one. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  she  is  good  and  happy — that  is  the 
main  thing ;  and  after  all  there  is  a  great  deal  to  be  said 
for  an  old-fashioned  education." 

"  Is  there  ?  "  she  asked  quickly.  She  was  sensitive  on 
the  subject  of  her  own  method — or  want  of  it — with  her 
boys.  "  Don't  you  think  it  tends  to  make  children  a 
little — a  little  wanting  in  frankness?  Hugh  and  Gavin 
are  shockingly  troublesome,  I  know;  but  at  least  they 
have  no  secrets  from  me." 

He  smiled.  He  was  used  to  this  pretty  little  fiction 
on  the  part  of  young  mothers. 

"  So  Wilhelmina  is  not  a  model  of  frankness  ? "  he 
said  indulgently.  "  Can  you  wonder  ?  I  seem  to  re- 
member sliding  down  the  water-pipe  myself  on  Sunday 
afternoon,  when  I  was  supposed  to  be  seated  in  my  room, 
meditating  on  Pike's  Early  Piety;  and  it  is  not  part  of 


48  WINDYHAUGH. 

the  recollection  that  I  thought  it  necessary  to  make  pub- 
lic confession  at  prayer-time." 

She  laughed.  "  Ah,  that  was  different.  I  can  under- 
stand her  not  being  quite  frank  with  her  grandmother. 
Don't  you  want  to  smoke,  George  ? " 

"  Thank  you.     If  you  are  sure  you  don't  mind." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  or  two.  "  Tell  me 
how  Wilhelmina  deceived  you,  Enid  ? "  he  said  at  last. 

"  What  nonsense,  George !  How  you  do  misrepresent 
one!" 

He  nodded.  "  All  right,"  he  said.  "  I  quite  under- 
stand; but  you  needn't  be  afraid  that  I  shall  interfere. 
I  am  interested  in  Wilhelmina  psychologically — that's 
all." 

The  word  impressed  her.  "Yes,"  she  interposed 
eagerly.  "  It  is  psychologically  that  I  am  interested  in 
her.  Though,  of  course,"  she  added  hastily  in  response 
to  his  smile,  "  I  am  very  fond  of  her  too." 

"  Ah !  There  I  have  the  advantage  of  you.  I  am 
not  fond  of  her.  I  can  afford  to  enjoy  the  game  aesthet- 
ically. I  made  a  muddle  of  it  many  years  ago.  It  in- 
terests me  to  see  what  she  will  make  of  it." 

He  paused,  smiling,  while  the  metaphor  expanded  in 
his  mind. 

"  When  I  was  a  young  man,"  he  said,  "  I  took  violin 
lessons,  not  so  much  with  a  view  of  playing  myself,  as 
to  appreciating  the  technique  of  other  men.  You've  no 
right  to  criticise  unless  you  have  served  in  the  ranks. 
In  Wilhelmina's  case  the  stage  is  small,  and  the  play  is 
pas  grande  chose.  You  suspect  me  of  wishing  to  take 
the  part  of  heavy  father?  God  forbid!  I  haven't  the 
smallest  intention  of  crossing  the  footlights.  But  it 
pleases  me  to  think  I  am  the  one  man  in  the  auditorium 
who  is  really  entitled  to  form  an  opinion  of  the  perform- 
ance. You  see  there  is  a  certain  piquancy  in  the  situ- 
ation?" 

She  smiled  appreciatively,  though  she  felt  sorely  per- 
plexed. If  she  understood  his  drift  at  all,  he  was  as- 
suredly right  in  saying  that  the  play  was  pas  grande 
chose.  She  was  conscious  of  a  vague  feeling  of  envy. 
Surely  Wilhelmina  was  not  worth  all  this.  "Do  you 


AT   THE  COSMOPOLIS.  49 

know,  I  believe  if  you  gave  your  mind  to  it  you  would 
make  a  splendid  father  ? " 

He  laughed.  One  half  of  him  was  surprised  that  she 
should  take  the  other  half  seriously. 

"Ah!  But  I  don't  give  my  mind  to  it,  you  see. 
No,  no.  Wilhelmina's  chance  may  be  small,  but  it  would 
be  a  great  deal  smaller  if  I  took  her.  Fie,  fie,  Enid !  Is 
that  all  a  residence  at  Windyhaugh  has  done  for  you? 
And  now  we  will  drop  the  subject — as  soon  as  you  have 
told  me  how  Wilhelmina  deceived  you." 

"  George,  dear,  for  a  clever  man  you  are  very  ab- 
surd," she  said  almost  pettishly.  "  She  never  deceived 
me.  The  child  was  more  than  welcome  to  help  herself 
to  my  perfume ;  and  if  she  did  fill  it  up  with  water  when 
she  spilt  it — the  action  was  only  gauche — nothing  more. 
I  only  thought  that  Hugh  and  Gavin " 

" wouldn't  have  taken  the  trouble  to  fill  it  up," 

thought  George.  But  aloud  he  said — 

"  So  that  is  what  she  did.  Nasty  mean  little  trick. 
And  yet  you  know,  Enid,  the  child  must  be  made  of  good 
clay."  He  began  to  feel  almost  fatherly.  His  somewhat 
jaded  emotions  were  responding  to  the  thoughts  of  old 
days — and  to  the  grand  vin  he  had  chosen  with  such 
care.  "  This  particular  pitcher  " — he  tapped  his  broad 
chest — "  was  broken  at  the  wheel  or  at  the  furnace ;  but, 
if  I  were  to  begin  life  over  again,  I  don't  think  I  should 
ask  for  better  clay." 

"I  should  think  not,"  she  replied  a  little  vaguely, 
"  and  I  hope  you  understand,  George,  that,  although  you 
have  made  me  tell  you  this — this  ridiculous  little  story 
— I  never  spoke  of  it  to  anyone  else.  Mrs.  Galbraith 
had  no  idea  of  it." 

"You  didn't  speak  to  the  child  yourself? " 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  little  air  of  self -congratu- 
lation. 

He  raised  his  eyebrows.  The  vintage  of  that  comet 
year  was  certainly  loosening  his  tongue. 

" didn't  improve  the  occasion — make  a  turning- 
point  in  her  life,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — speak  to  her 
like  a  mother  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  made  a  charming  little  moue. 


50  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Or  like  a  grandmother  ?  "  she  said  sweetly.  "  No, 
George,  I  did  not.  I  assure  you  she  gets  quite  enough 
of  that  kind  of  thing  as  it  is." 

He  did  not  answer,  and  she  felt  she  had  lost  ground, 
so  she  assumed  an  air  of  deep  seriousness. 

"  What  she  wants  is  something  very  different  from 
that.  Could  she  not  have  a  French  bonne?  I  believe 
her  memory  is  prodigious:  Hugh  says  she  knows  the 
Bible  by  heart ;  and,  with  such  a  gift,  it  does  seem  a  pity 
that  she  shouldn't  be  learning  something — something 
that  would  stand  her  in  real  stead  in  her  future  life, 
don't  you  know.  What  are  you  laughing  at,  George  ? " 

"  Did  I  laugh  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  was  only  thinking 
that  I  could  wish  few  better  things  for  Wilhelmina  than 
that  she  might  come  some  day  to  appreciate  her  Aunt 
Enid  as  I  do." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MADEMOISELLE. 

THERE  are  times  when  we  choose  a  seed  with  the 
greatest  care,  lay  it  in  friendly  soil  under  favouring 
skies,  tend  it  day  and  night,  nay,  water  it  with  our  tears 
— but  our  labour  is  all  in  vain.  Again,  almost  without 
our  knowledge,  a  puff  of  our  breath  bears  a  floating  seed 
to  some  chance  scrap  of  soil  where  it  lies  neglected — and 
behold,  a  plenteous  harvest! 

So  it  was — if  I  may  use  to  so  small  an  end  a  meta- 
phor that  has  long  been  accustomed  to  better  company — 
with  Enid's  suggestion  about  a  bonne  for  Wilhelmina. 
There  was  every  reason  why  it  should  not  bear  fruit. 
In  the  first  place,  no  one  greatly  cared  that  it  should; 
in  the  second  place,  money  at  Windyhaugh  was  at  this 
time  a  scarce  commodity;  in  the  third  place,  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith  had  been  wont  to  see  in  every  Frenchwoman  a 
possible  papist  and  Jesuit. 

And  yet  the  suggestion  was  carried  out. 

It  happened  on  this  wise. 


MADEMOISELLE.  51 

"  Don't  put  the  idea  of  a  bonne  quite  out  of  your 
mind,  Enid,"  George  had  said  on  the  morning  after  their 
conversation.  "  If  you  hear  of  a  suitable  person,  write 
to — to  Wilhelmina's  grandmother.  Be  sure  to  specify 
that  the  woman  is  an  evangelical  protestant,  and  if  you 
can  get  her  to  lay  claim  to  a  drop  or  two  of  Huguenot 
blood " 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  laughed  and  agreed,  and  forthwith 
forgot  all  about  it.  But  some  weeks  later  a  friend  who 
was  going  abroad  asked  her  if  she  knew  of  a  situation  for 
a  French  governess  with  an  admirable  accent. 

Enid  shook  her  head  reflectively.  "  Stay,"  she  said 
as  an  afterthought — "would  she  go  to  a  quiet  situation 
in  the  country  ?  " 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  she  can't  afford  to  be  par- 
ticular. She  is  not  so  young  as  she  was,  and  she  is  so 
busy  saving  that  she  doesn't  manage  to  dress  very  well — 
though  of  course  she  knows  how  to  put  on  the  clothes 
she  has.  But  her  accent  is  something  exquisite." 

"  Is  she  a  protestant  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  At  least  I  think  so.  I  must  have  known 
at  the  time  I  engaged  her.  I  am  sure  she  never  goes  to 
mass." 

"That's  all  right.  I  think  perhaps  I  do  know  of 
something  that  might  suit  her." 

So  much  for  the  seed,  but  of  course  the  most  serious 
part  of  the  difficulty  was  the  soil  in  which  it  was  to  grow. 

It  so  chanced,  however,  that  when  Enid's  letter  ar- 
rived, Mrs.  Galbraith  was  deeply  interested  in  an  evan- 
gelical mission  in  Paris — a  mission  worked  by  English 
people — and  she  fancied  she  saw  a  "  leading  "  in  Mrs. 
Dalrymple's  suggestion.  If  Wilhelmina  really  was  to 
be  the  chosen  vessel  her  grandmother  dreamed  of  night 
and  day,  perhaps  it  was  the  Lord's  will  that  Paris — that 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah  of  modern  times — should  be  the 
scene  of  her  labours. 

"  Bairn,"  she  said  pathetically,  overcoming  for  the 
moment  her  rigid  reserve,  "  I'm  taking  an  awful  respon- 
sibility upon  myself.  I  am  putting  in  your  hand  the  key 
to  a  world  lying  in  wickedness.  Mind,  mind,  if  you 
enter  in,  that  you  go  as  the  messenger  of  the  Lord  I  " 


52  WINDYHAUGH. 

She  took  off  her  spectacles,  wiped  them  slowly,  and 
opened  the  great  Bible. 

"  We'll  not  take  the  usual  lesson  to-day,"  she  said. 
"Hearken,  bairn."  And  she  read  in  her  quavering 
voice — 

" '  Awake,  awake ;  put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion,  put 
on  thy  beautiful  garments,  O  Jerusalem,  the  holy  city; 
for  henceforth  there  shall  no  more  come  into  thee  the 
uncircumcised  and  unclean. 

" '  Shake  thyself  from  the  dust ;  arise,  and  sit  down, 
O  Jerusalem;  loose  thyself  from  the  bands  of  thy  neck, 
O  captive  daughter  of  Zion.  For  thus  saith  the  Lord, 
Ye  have  sold  yourselves  for  nought,  and  ye  shall  be  re- 
deemed without  money.  .  .  . 

" '  How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of 
him  that  bringeth  good  tidings,  that  publisheth  peace; 
that  bringeth  good  tidings  of  good,  that  publisheth  sal- 
vation; that  saith  unto  Zion,  Thy  God  reigneth! 

" '  The  watchmen  shall  lift  up  the  voice ;  with  the 
voice  together  shall  they  sing;  for  they  shall  see  eye  to 
eye  when  the  Lord  shall  bring  again  Zion. 

"  '  Break  forth  into  joy,  sing  together  ye  waste  places 
of  Jerusalem;  for  the  Lord  hath  comforted  his  people, 
he  hath  redeemed  Jerusalem.' " 

Wilhelmina  listened  mechanically.  One  lesson  was 
the  same  to  her  as  another,  unless  there  was  a  story  in  it. 
Such  poetry  as  this  was  far  above  the  level  of  her  mind, 
and  she  could  not  foresee  how  in  later  days  it  would 
ring  in  her  ears  like  battle-music.  Ah  yes,  when  all  is 
said,  there  are  many  worse  training-schools  than  a  home 
like  Windyhaugh.  "  How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains 
are  the  feet  of  him  that  saith  un^o  Zion,  i  Thy  God 
reigneth ! ' " 

Pathos  had  to  be  on  a  lower  level  if  it  was  to  ap- 
peal to  Wilhelmina  at  this  time,  and  on  a  much  lower 
level  Jane  contrived  to  supply  it  in  abundance. 

"I  know  how  it  will  be,"  she  said,  day  after  day, 
"  you'll  forget  all  about  your  poor  old  nurse  when  the 
grand  new  mademoiselle  comes." 

"  Oh,  Jane,  you  know  I  won't  love  Mademoiselle  the 
tiniest  bit ! " 


MADEMOISELLE.  53 

"  So  you  say,  so  you  say !  Before  a  week's  out  you'll 
have  told  her  all  our  secrets." 

Wilhelmina  raised  her  head. 

"I  wouldn't  be  a  mean!"  she  said  indignantly. 

"  And  you  and  she  will  have  a  lot  of  secrets  of  your 
own." 

"  I  won't  tell  her  a  thing,  not  the  least  thing !  And 
I'm  sure  I  won't  listen  to  her  horrid  old  secrets.  Be- 
sides, I  daresay  she'll  tell  them  in  French." 

"  You  used  to  tell  me  things,"  Jane  went  on  reproach- 
fully. % 

The  child's  brow  furrowed.  This  subject  was  thread- 
bare, and  she  foresaw  the  retort.  "  I  do  tell  you  things, 
Jane,"  she  said. 

"  Then  tell  me  what  you  did  with  the  red  ribbon  you 
were  so  fond  of — that  was  round  your  chocolate-box." 

Wilhelmina  bit  her  lip.  She  was  afraid  of  her  nurse 
in  this  mood.  "  I  can't  tell  you  that,'  she  said  timidly, 
but  in  a  tone  that  was  perfectly  final. 

Jane  shook  her  roughly  by  the  shoulder.  "  Nasty 
close  little  thing ! "  she  said  crossly.  "  It  won't  be  a 
week  before  Mademoiselle  gets  it  out  of  you ! " 

But  she  was  well  aware  that  she  was  losing  her  whip 
hand,  and  she  felt  constrained  to  make  terms. 

She  put  her  arms  caressingly  round  her  charge's  waist. 
These  sudden  changes  of  mood  were  in  themselves  noth- 
ing surprising.  "  You  wouldn't  like  me  to  tell  her  about 
your  chats  with  Mr.  Darsie,  would  you  ?  "  she  said — "  or 
about  the  sweets  he  gives  you?  She'd  soon  tell  your 
Grannie." 

Wilhelmina  raised  solemn  protesting  eyes. 

"  There,  there !  You  know  I  wouldn't  do  such  a 
thing;  and  you  won't  tell  her  about — about  the  gentle- 
man who  meets  us  sometimes  in  our  walks  ? " 

"Course  I  won't!"  said  Wilhelmina.  "Nor  about 
the  soldiers  either." 

"  Oh,  the  soldiers ! "  said  Jane  contemptuously. 
"  Soldiers  speak  to  everybody.  That's  a  way  they 
have." 

Mr.  Darsie  too  had  a  word  to  say  when  he  heard  of 
the  impending  change  in  the  household  at  Windyhaugh. 


54  WINDYHAUGH. 

He  was  almost  tempted  at  first  to  think  that  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith's  detractors  were  right,  and  that  the  old  lady  was 
going  out  of  her  mind. 

"Eh,  Miss  Williamina!"  he  cried.  "That's  no  a 
guid  hearin'  ava.  I  dinna  hold  with  the  Frenchies. 
They're  nighty  folk — no'  for  the  like  o'  you."  He  strove 
to  think  of  anything  he  might  add  that  would  put  the 
child  on  her  guard  against  the  wiles  of  the  foreigner; 
but  was  forced  to  content  himself  with  a  philosophic  re- 
flection on  the  limitations  of  human  influence. 

• 

The  reader's  sympathies  are  no  doubt  abundantly 
awakened  for  poor  Mademoiselle,  and  in  truth  she  was  a 
small  and  harmless  mouse  to  come  out  of  such  a  moun- 
tain of  apprehension.  She  had,  it  is  true,  no  settled 
religious  convictions;  but,  as  she  was  not  conscious  of 
having  lost  any,  she  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  be 
aware  of  their  absence.  She  would  have  thought  it  very 
bad  taste  to  talk  to  her  pupils  on  such  a  subject,  and,  in 
any  case,  the  "  first  five  years  "  of  Wilhelmina's  life  had 
been  already  appropriated. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening — late  for  Windyhaugh — 
when  Mademoiselle  drove  under  the  limes.  At  this  hour 
the  pupils  she  had  left  would  just  be  rising  from  dinner 
in  their  dainty  evening  dress;  and  the  Frenchwoman's 
heart  sank  within  her  at  the  sight  of  the  great  silent 
rambling  dimly-lighted  house.  She  could  not  believe  at 
first  that  this  was  really  the  normal  aspect  of  affairs. 
She  thought  some  sudden  calamity  in  the  form  of  illness 
or  evil  tidings  had  fallen  upon  the  place ;  and  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith's  manner — hospitable  though  it  was  in  a  reserved 
Scotch  fashion — certainly  did  not  tend  to  dispel  the  im- 
pression. 

In  the  course  of  a  very  brief  interview,  Mrs.  Dal- 
rymple  had  told  Mademoiselle  that  the  household  at 
Windyhaugh  was  "quiet";  but  "quiet"  is  a  relative 
term,  and  Enid's  surroundings  were  not  such  as  to  sug- 
gest that  she  placed  a  very  rigid  interpretation  upon  the 
word.  In  truth  she  scarcely  considered  an  elderly  gov- 
erness to  be  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  as  herself. 

Teacher  and  pupil  did  not  meet  till  next  morning, 


MADEMOISELLE.  55 

and  then  Wilhelmina — feeling  Jane's  eye  upon  her — was 
as  stony  and  unresponsive  as  even  she  could  be.  Chil- 
dren are  true  conservatives,  and  something  in  Mademoi- 
selle struck  the  child  immediately  as  "  queer."  She 
wished  the  little  lady  would  go  away,  and  leave  her  in 
peace  with  her  dear  Jane. 

When  twenty-four  hours  had  passed,  and  Mademoi- 
selle realised  that  she  had  now  tasted  a  fair  average 
sample  of  the  life  that  lay  before  her,  she  was  only  de- 
terred from  immediate  flight  by  the  reflection  that  the 
railway  station  was  four  miles  off.  So  she  took  refuge 
for  the  moment  in  a  long  letter  to  a  friend  in  Paris. 
Poor  Windyhaugh!  Seldom'  has  an  innocent,  unpre- 
tending homestead  been  confronted  with  such  an  indict- 
ment. The  climate,  the  situation,  the  building,  the  peo- 
ple, the  cuisine — all  in  turn  supplied  her  with  a  text  on 
which  to  deliver  her  soul.  Her  eyes  were  red  with  cry- 
ing when  the  housemaid  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  The  mistress  has  gone  to  her  room,"  she  said. 
"  She  thought  you  might  be  tired  and  prefer  your  sup- 
per here." 

Mademoiselle  nodded.  Her  face  was  so  woe-begone 
that  the  girl  lingered  on  the  threshold. 

"  I  doubt  you're  homesick,"  she  said  in  a  friendly 
voice.  "  Everything'll  seem  strange  at  first." 

Mademoiselle  tried  to  smile.  "  It  is  a  little  sad — 
dull — here,"  she  said.  "  Is  it  like  this  always — every 
day?" 

The  girl  hesitated.  She  was  anxious  to  offer  conso- 
lation; but  facts  were  strong. 

"  Sundays  are  different,"  she  said  deprecatingly  at 
last.  "  If  you  know  nobody  in  the  place,  I  doubt  you 
will  be  dull  then!" 

And  so  it  proved. 

When  Sunday  came  the  rain  poured  in  torrents. 
Mademoiselle  had  not  the  least  intention  of  going  to 
church;  but,  so  definite  was  Mrs.  Galbraith's  assump- 
tion to  the  contrary,  that,  without  a  word  of  protest  on 
her  own  part,  the  poor  little  governess  found  herself 
wedged  into  the  hired  landau  along  with  the  old  lady, 
Wilhelmina,  and  a  maid-servant.  The  landau  was  an 


56  WINDYHAUGH. 

expensive  luxury,  and  must  be  made  to  serve  as  a  means 
of  grace  for  as  many  as  possible.  The  windows  were 
kept  closed  throughout  the  long  drive,  so  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  seen  save  the  channels  of  rain  as  they  made 
their  way  down  the  translucent  window-panes.  Made- 
moiselle became  almost  hysterical  in  the  effort  to  avoid 
meeting  the  eyes  of  the  others. 

The  old  church  was  dark  and  chilly,  and  Mr.  Car- 
michael's  manner  was  less  breezy  than  usual.  The  strain 
of  producing  two  sermons  in  the  week  was  proving  rather 
heavy.  He  had  the  true  pastoral  eye,  however,  and  he 
did  not  fail  to  observe  his  new  "  hearer,"  nor  to  note  the 
fact  that  she  seemed  unhappy. 

His  was  not  the  only  eye  that  singled  her  out.  If 
Mademoiselle  had  been  less  absorbed  in  her  misery,  she 
must  surely  have  been  aware  of  the  trenchant  gaze  that 
transfixed  her  obliquely  from  behind.  Mr.  Darsie  was 
striving  to  read  her  inmost  soul;  and,  not  being  on 
her  guard,  she  certainly  gave  him  every  opportunity  for 
doing  so.  The  one  thing  that  really  impressed  her  was 
Wilhelmina's  unimpeachable  behaviour.  The  child  sat 
through  the  sermon,  attentive  and  motionless  as  Mrs. 
Galbraith  herself. 

"  She  does  behave  very  well,"  said  Mademoiselle  when 
they  were  seated  once  more  in  the  stuffy  carriage. 

Mrs.  Galbraith  looked  annoyed.  The  remark  was  not 
inacceptable  in  itself;  but  it  was  most  unsuited  to  Wil- 
helmina's ears. 

"  Indeed  I'd  be  sorely  ashamed  of  her  if  she  didn't 
behave  well,"  she  said  severely.  "  I  hope  at  her  age  she 
has  sense  enough  to  know  how  highly  she  is  privileged. 
When  one  thinks  of  the  thousands  of  children  who  grow 
up  in  heathen  lands " 

It  is  needless  to  quote  the  rest.  Mademoiselle  drew 
as  far  as  possible  into  her  corner  of  the  carriage,  and 
volunteered  no  further  remarks. 

There  was  an  appreciable  amount  of  solid  comfort  to 
be  derived  from  the  cold  beef  and  cold  fruit-tart  that 
formed  the  midday  meal.  When  that  was  over  the  old 
lady  said  with  the  coldness  that  betokened  timidity — 

"  I  always  have  a  little  class  with  Wilhelmina  on  Sun- 


MADEMOISELLE.  57 

day  afternoon,  now  that  I'm  not  able  to  go  a  second  time 
to  church.  You  are  welcome  to  join  us  if  you  like." 

But  the  worm  turned. 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  go  to  my  own  room,"  said 
Mademoiselle.  "  I  too  have  some  religious  books  in 
my  box." 

She  made  her  escape  at  once  lest  any  effort  should  be 
made  to  detain  her ;  but  I  need  scarcely  say  that  the  book 
she  took  from  her  box  was  not  strictly  religious. 

Mrs.  Galbraith  was  relieved  to  see  her  go.  In  truth 
the  invitation  had  been  far  more  magnanimous  than  the 
Frenchwoman  supposed. 

The  class  began  with  prayer,  and  then  Wilhelmina 
"  said  her  ticket."  It  was  the  last  of  four,  which  were 
now  duly  exchanged  for  a  "  big  one,"  as  Mr.  Darsie  had 
said.  The  ticket  was  followed  by  the  repetition  of  a 
hymn  and  of  several  answers  from  the  Shorter  Cate- 
chism; and  thus  was  ushered  in  the  solemn  business  of 
the  afternoon — the  reading  of  a  portion  of  the  Bible  in 
Mrs.  Galbraith's  monotonous  voice,  with  the  running 
accompaniment  of  Matthew  Henry's  Commentary. 

It  was  dull,  and  yet  Wilhelmina  was  forced  to  listen 
with  one  ear  on  account  of  the  questions  that  were  to 
follow.  One  ear  was  sufficient,  however,  for  the  old  lady 
had  not  been  educated  in  a  modern  training-college,  and 
was  apt  to  word  her  questions  in  such  a  way  that,  after 
a  little  experience  of  her  method,  the  answer  could 
scarcely  be  missed. 

"  I'll  put  the  things  away,  Grannie,"  said  Wilhel- 
mina cheerfully  when  the  long  ordeal  was  over;  and,  as 
soon  as  Mrs.  Galbraith  had  left  the  room  for  her  after- 
noon rest,  the  child  proceeded — like  the  actors  who  seek 
recreation  in  each  other's  theatres — to  play  at  Sunday 
School! 

Not  a  moment  was  lost  before  the  decks  were  cleared 
for  action.  Bibles,  commentary,  and  hymn-books  were 
now  converted  into  benches.  Small  paper  booklets,  more 
or  less  attractively  attired  in  pink,  white,  or  grey  covers, 
represented  the  scholars.  A  larger  booklet  was  wont  to 
do  duty  as  teacher,  but  Wilhelmina  could  not  lay  her 
hands  on  this  at  first.  Such  trifling  hitches  were  wel- 


58  WINDYHAUGH. 

corned  as  affording  opportunity  for  a  little  legitimate  by- 
play, and  the  scholars  forthwith  took  advantage  of  the 
interval. 

"  Teacher's  late,"  said  one  innocently. 

"  Perhaps  she's  ill,"  said  another.  "  Let's  go  out  and 
play." 

They  were  on  their  way  to  the  door  when  the  teacher 
appeared,  and  a  certain  amount  of  horse-play  ensued. 
Wilhelinina  was  quite  artist  enough  to  feel  the  necessity 
of  relieving  the  game  with  touches  of  comedy.  In  this 
case,  I  fear,  it  degenerated  into  farce,  and  some  of  the 
scholars  played  quite  openly  to  the  gallery. 

They  were  called  to  order,  however,  and  the  class  pro- 
ceeded. The  opening  exercises  were  reduced  to  a  mini- 
mum, and  then  the  "  hearing  of  tickets  "  began.  This 
was  the  raison  d'etre  of  the  whole  game,  and,  to  appre- 
ciate the  point  of  it,  the  reader  must  remember  that  each 
scholar  was  as  distinct  an  individuality  in  Wilhelmina's 
eyes  as  are  the  horses  entered  for  the  Derby  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  turf. 

Solemnly  closing  her  eyes  to  ensure  impartiality,  she 
took  a  ticket  from  the  box  and  read  it  aloud — 

" '  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain 
mercy.' 

" '  Blessed.'  "  She  glanced  over  the  title  of  the  first 
book  in  search  of  the  word ;  but  it  did  not  appear  in  that, 
nor  indeed  in  any  of  those  assembled. 

"  '  Are.'  "  This  was  more  hopeful.  It  did  not  occur 
in  the  first  nor  in  the  second;  but  it  did  occur  in  the 
title  of  the  third,  so  the  third  scholar — rejoicing  in  the 
cognomen  of  "  Are  you  happy  ?  " — claimed  the  prize. 

Thus  the  game  went  on.  Sometimes  every  word  in 
the  text  was  exhausted  before  the  ticket  was  earned,  and 
it  had  to  be  put  back  in  the  box,  having  served  only  as 
the  excuse  for  a  severe  reprimand  on  the  part  of  the 
teacher. 

"  I  really  will  not  take  the  trouble  to  come  and  teach 
you,"  she  would  say,  "  if  you  can't  learn  your  texts  better 
than  that.  There's  nothing  to  laugh  at,  Sunshine.  Go 
and  stand  in  the  corner." 

"  Sunshine  and  Storm,"  a  torn  and  unattractive  grey 


MADEMOISELLE.  59 

book,  accustomed  to  the  role  of  scapegoat,  was  placed  in 
the  corner  accordingly. 

"And  your  frock  isn't  mended  yet,"  pursued  the 

teacher  relentlessly.  "You  are  quite  incorr — incorr ' 

The  delicious  big  word  that  Aunt  Enid  had  applied  with 
such  effect  to  Hugh  when  she  was  angry  with  him, 
danced  tantalizingly  just  out  of  reach.  "  You  are  a 
very  bad  girl,  Sunshine." 

The  game  was  not  highly  intellectual,  I  confess,  nor 
had  it  any  profound  spiritual  significance;  but,  when 
relieved  by  plentiful  touches  of  comedy,  it  helped  to  pass 
the  time  amazingly.  And  the  beauty  of  the  whole 
scheme  was  that,  if  anyone  came  to  the  door  of  the  room, 
a  sweep  of  Wilhelmina's  strong  little  arm  was  sufficient 
to  destroy  all  traces  of  her  guilt.  She  could  be  scolded 
for  nothing  worse  than  for  strewing  the  books  over  the 
table.  On  such  occasions  the  closing  exercises  had  to  be 
murmured  in  a  whisper  over  the  ruins. 

These  closing  exercises  were  absolutely  de  rigueur. 
Not  having  a  companion  to  urge  her  on  and  to  chase 
away  self-consciousness,  Wilhelmina  suffered  from  a  re- 
current suspicion  that  this  fascinating  game  was  dis- 
pleasing in  the  eyes  of  God.  So,  before  putting  away 
the  books,  she  would  close  her  eyes,  drop  her  chubby  chin 
on  her  breast,  and  pray  devoutly — 

"  Forgive  us  our  sins,  Lord,  for  Christ's  sake. 
Amen." 

She  thought  it  more  prudent  not  to  specify  exactly 
what  the  sins  were  to  which  she  referred,  and  in  this 
respect  I  fear  she  resembled  her  betters.  Mother  Church 
shows  her  wisdom  when  she  compels  her  children  to  give 
a  name  to  their  iniquities.  Regarded  simply  as  a  means 
of  moral  progress,  confession  is  surely  more  helpful  to 
the  rank  and  file  of  humanity  when  it  says,  "  I  ate  too 
much  of  that  lobster  mayonnaise  last  night,"  than  when 
it  lays  claim  to  the  proud  but  indefinite  position  of  the 
"  chief  of  sinners." 

If  conscience  was  unusually  alert,  Wilhelmina  added 

a  clause  to  her  prayer  and  said,  "  Forgive  us  our  sins, 

Lord,   and  make  us   good,  for   Christ's   sake.     Amen." 

But  when  the  fascination  of  the  game  was  upon  her,  she 

5 


60  WINDYHAUGH. 

quite  shared  St.  Augustine's  human  dread  of  being 
"  made  good  "  too  quickly.  We  learn,  alas,  as  we  grow 
older,  that  we  need  not  have  been  at  all  uneasy  on  that 
score ! 

So  sped  the  afternoon;  but  Sunday  evening  was  still 
to  come — there  was  no  shirking  that! — Sunday  evening 
with  its  nameless  melancholy,  its  twilight,  its  distant 
church  bells,  its  thoughts  of  eternity !  At  this  hour  Wil- 
helmina  was  wont  to  wander  listlessly  about  the  house 
in  search  of  distraction,  landing  as  a  rule  in  the  old- 
fashioned  kitchen,  where  she  listened  to  conversation  of 
which  she  understood  little,  and  might  with  advantage 
have  understood  even  less. 

The  governess  would  gladly  have  taken  shelter  in  the 
kitchen,  too,  before  the  evening  was  over,  but  that  of 
course  was  out  of  the  question. 

"  Did  ye  see  the  new  mademoiselle  in  the  kirk  the 
day  ? "  said  Mr.  Darsie  to  his  minister.  "  It's  a  queer 
like  thing  for  Mistress  Galbraith  to  have  done.  I  doubt 
she'll  no'  have  a  vera  guid  influence  on  little  Miss  Wil- 
liamina." 

"Why?" 

"  Eh,  they're  flighty  folk,  thae  Frenchwomen,  ta'en 
up  wi'  their  dress  an'  their  folderols  an'  the  like." 

"  I  am  sure  this  one  was  quiet  enough — almost 
dowdy." 

"Na,"  put  in  the  old  man  quickly  and  decisively. 
"  I  thocht  sae  mysel'  at  the  first ;  but  when  I  cam'  to 
tak'  a  guid  look,  there  was  a  perkiness  about  the  set  o' 
her  bonnet  that  I  didna  approve  o'.  She  may  be  a  well- 
meaning  woman  eneugh,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  frae  the 
ways  o'  her  during  the  service  that  she  hasna  muckle  o' 
the  spirit." 

Poor  Mademoiselle! 

Let  us  hope  there  is  no  Mr.  Darsie  in  the  pew  behind 
you  and  me. 


A  NEW  REGIME.  61 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   NEW   REGIME. 

PEW  things  could  be  worse  for  the  nervous  system  of 
a  child  than  was  the  emotional  strain  to  which  Wilhel- 
mina  was  subjected  during  the  next  few  weeks. 

"  See  and  learn  your  lessons  nicely,"  the  kind-hearted 
housemaid  had  said.  "  It's  lonesome  here  for  Mademoi- 
selle, and  the  time  may  come  when  you're  a  stranger  in 
a  strange  land  yourself." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  reply.  Hitherto  her  loyalty  to 
Jane  had  prompted  her  to  pay  little  attention  to  Made- 
moiselle's instructions,  but  the  temptation  to  show  how 
clever  she  could  be  was  great,  and  she  was  glad  to  have 
an  excuse  for  yielding  to  it.  Her  memory  was  not,  as 
Enid  had  described  it,  "prodigious,"  but  it  was  excel- 
lent; and  her  receptivity  was  quite  above  the  average. 
Moreover  her  ear  was  true,  and  she  had  few  interests  in 
life  to  distract  her  attention  from  her  French  lessons. 
So  she  threw  herself  into  the  work — and  Jane  made  her 
suffer  accordingly. 

But  from  that  day  the  tide  of  Mademoiselle's  misery 
turned,  at  least  for  a  time.  She  would  have  told  you 
quite  frankly  that  she  taught  for  her  daily  bread,  and  in 
order  to  make  provision  for  her  old  age;  but  although 
she  never  acknowledged  it,  she  felt  a  subtle  thrill  of  joy 
in  a  responsive  pupil  that  linked  her  to  the  born  teachers 
in  all  ages.  She  loved  her  language  as  some  men  love 
their  religion,  and,  although  she  could  teach  it  on  no 
modern  nor  logical  system,  she  taught  it  well,  insisting 
with  infinite  care  on  a  pure  production  of  the  vowel- 
sounds. 

"  M ieux,"  she  said. 

"Mioo,"  said  Wilhelmina. 

Mademoiselle  closed  the  book. 

"  Now,  let  us  understand  one  another,  little  one.  Eu 
is  not  oo.  It  is  as  different  from  it  as  light  is  from 
darkness.  No,  you  come  no  nearer  it  when  you  close  up 


62  WINDYHAUGH. 

your  lips  and  say  u.  You  must  listen  to  me  often,  often ; 
then  take  plenty  of  time,  and  open  your  mouth  wide. 
I  have  not  met  ten — no,  not  five — English  people,  out- 
side my  own  pupils,  who  could  say  eu." 

Her  ambition  thus  fired,  Wilhelmina  determined  that 
she  would  add  one  to  the  choice  little  circle  on  which 
Mademoiselle  had  been  pleased  to  set  her  cachet,  and, 
long  after  she  went  to  bed  at  night,  her  efforts  could 
be  heard. 

"  Mew,  mew,  mew !  "  said  Jane  irritably.  "  I  never 
heard  the  like.  If  that's  all  Mademoiselle  came  to  teach 
you,  it  seems  to  me  the  cat  would  have  done  as  well !  " 

To  which  Mademoiselle  would  have  replied  that  Tab- 
by certainly  came  nearer  the  articulation  of  "  mieux  " 
than  did  most  English  people,  inasmuch  as  she  at  least 
took  the  trouble  to  open  her  mouth. 

But  Jane  really  was  unbearable  in  those  days.  She 
constantly  took  her  charge  to  task  for  a  lack  of  affec- 
tion ;  she  seized  every  excuse  for  bouncing  into  the 
schoolroom  to  make  sure  that  no  endearments  were  tak- 
ing place  between  governess  and  pupil ;  and  she  practised 
an  irritating  supervision  of  Mademoiselle's  habits  and 
customs  in  the  hope  of  discovering  something  that  would 
discredit  the  new  arrival  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Galbraith, 
and  of  the  household. 

Mademoiselle,  on  her  part,  was  of  course  not  devoid 
of  llame.  She  had  treated  Jane  from  the  first  as  a 
mere  servant,  ignoring  the  privileges  due  a  person 
whose  father  had  been  coachman  in  the  family  as  long 
as  it  was  in  a  position  to  keep  a  coachman  at  all. 

Christmas  was  drawing  near  when  the  strain  was  un- 
expectedly relaxed.  Jane  was  summoned  to  the  sickbed 
of  her  mother;  and,  although  Wilhelmina  shed  many 
genuine  tears,  I  think  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she 
was  thankful  to  be  free.  She  spent  most  of  her  time 
now  with  Mademoiselle,  drinking  in  French  as,  in  her 
babyhood,  she  had  drunk  in  her  mother  tongue.  Made- 
moiselle, on  her  part,  made  Wilhelmina's  progress  the 
main  object  of  her  life:  but  for  that,  she  wrote  to  her 
friends,  Windyhaugh  would  have  driven  her  crazy.  "  I 
little  thought  that  at  my  time  of  life  I  should  enter  a 


A  NEW  REGIME.  63 

convent;  but  so  it  is,  and  I  assure  you  the  step-^if  ad- 
visable at  all — should  be  taken  in  early  life." 

"  Run  on  into  the  warden,"  she  said  to  the  child  one 
day  when  it  was  time  for  their  walk.  "  I  will  join  you 
in  a  moment." 

But  great  was  her  surprise  when  a  few  minutes  later 
she  found  Wilhelmina  swinging  on  the  gate  in  earnest 
conversation  with  a  soldier. 

"Mais,  mon  Dieu!"  cried  the  governess,  forgetting 
in  her  excitement  how  much  Wilhelmina  had  been 
shocked  by  the  expression  on  a  previous  occasion,  "  how 
had  he  the  effrontery  to  stop  and  speak  to  you?  This  is 
Jane's  doing !  " 

"  No,  no,  Mademoiselle !  "  exclaimed  the  child  too 
eagerly.  "  It  was  only  a  soldier,"  she  added  a  moment 
later.  "  Soldiers  speak  to  every  one,  you  know.  It's  a 
way  they  have." 

Mademoiselle  looked  appalled. 

"If on  Dieu!"  she  cried  again,  heedless  now  whether 
her  pupil  was  shocked  or  not.  "  It  is  not  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith  whom  you  have  heard  say  that !  " 

Wilhelmina  seemed  to  be  painfully  aware  that  it 
was  not. 

"  It  is  possible  you  do  not  know  that  soldiers  are  just 
the  worst  of  all  ?  " 

Any  aspersion  on  her  intelligence  cut  the  child  to  the 
quick.  "  No,"  she  said.  "  I  thought  the  other  kind  was 
worst." 

"  What  other  kind  ?  "  Mademoiselle's  keen  percep- 
tions scented  mischief. 

But  Wilhelmina  saw  she  had  gone  too  far. 

"  Any  other  kind,"  she  answered  doggedly. 

"  My  child,  are  you  not  aware  that  it  is  not  comme  il 
faut  to  speak  to  any  man  whom  you  do  not  know  ?  And 
soldiers!  Of  course  if  it  is  an  officer  who  has  been  in- 
troduced to  you  by  your  family — that  is  another  thing; 
but  these  soldiers  here,  they  are — canaille!" 

This  sounded  terrible  in  its  incomprehensibility,  and 
Wilhelmina  began  to  fear  that  the  story  would  find  its 
way  to  Mrs.  Galbraith's  ears. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  she  said  coaxingly,  raising  a  chubby 


64  WINDYHAUGH. 

pathetic  face,  "I  don't  believe  he  is  a  real  soldier!  I 
asked  him  once  about  his  battles,  and  he  said  he  had 
never  been  in  one !  " 

But  Mademoiselle  did  not  seem  to  find  this  evidence 
particularly  conclusive. 

She  would  certainly  have  spoken  to  Mrs.  Galbraith, 
but  she  and  the  old  lady  had  never  taken  to  each  other, 
and  she  reflected  that  no  farther  harm  could  be  done 
while  Jane  was  away.  In  the  meantime  Mademoiselle 
resolved  to  keep  a  strict  look-out. 

A  few  days  later,  when  governess  and  pupil  were 
walking  on  the  outskirts  of  Queensmains,  they  met  a 
showily-dressed  man,  belonging  apparently  to  the  shop- 
keeping  class,  who  looked  at  Wilhelmina  as  if  he  would 
fain  have  spoken.  The  child  did  not  meet  his  eye;  but 
her  face  flushed  so  red  that  Mademoiselle's  suspicions 
were  aroused. 

"  Do  you  know  that  person  ? "  she  asked  seductively. 

"  No,"  said  Wilhelmina  stoutly. 

"  He  seems  to  know  you." 

"  ]$To."  But  the  child  sighed.  Here  was  another  lie, 
and,  although  there  was  no  real  use  in  being  good  till 
one  was  converted,  every  lie  did  make  it  seem  so  much 
less  likely  that  she  could  possibly  belong  to  the  elect. 
She  did  not  recover  her  spirits  till  Mademoiselle 
unexpectedly  turned  in  to  the  shop  next  door  to  the 
grocer's. 

"  I've  got  a  penny  to  spend,"  pleaded  the  child. 
"  May  I  run  in  and  buy  some  sweets  so  as  not  to  keep 
you  waiting  ? " 

"  No,  no.  There's  a  much  nicer  sweet-shop  than 
that." 

Wilhelmina's  lip  quivered.  "He's  got  the  partic'lar 
kind  of  butter-scotch  I  like." 

"Eh  Uen!    Depeche-toi." 

Wilhelmina  turned  like  a  dog  at  the  magic  words, 
"Paid  for!" 

And  her  welcome  was  worth  going  to  meet.  Mr. 
Darsie's  old  face  beamed,  and  he  made  short  work  of  the 
customer  he  was  serving. 

"  Eh,  Missy,  but  ye're  a  sicht  for  sair  e'en,"  he  cried. 


A  NEW  REGIME.  65 

"  If  I  hadna  seen  ye  i'  the  kirk  on  Sabbaths,  I'd  ha' 
thocht  ye  was  awa'  wi'  your  nurse." 

Wilhelmina  shook  her  head.  "  It's  Mademoiselle," 
she  said  apologetically.  "  She's  so  dreadfully  particular 
about  the — the  gentlemen  I  speak  to." 

"  Weel,  weel,  I've  nae  doubt  she's  richt." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  she'd  even  let  me  smile  to  you  in 
the  street  without  asking  a  lot  of  questions;  but,  if  we 
meet  you,  you'll  know  I'm  smiling  inside." 

"  I  will  that.  It's  ower  late  to  prevent  you  an'  me 
frae  bein'  freens,  but,  if  she  speirs,  you  only  need  to  tell 
her  I'm  an  auld  body  that  sits  ahint  ye  in  the  kirk.  Mr. 
Carmichael  tells  me  she's  gey  wiselike.  Nae  doubt  she's 
making  a  gran'  scholar  o'  ye  ? " 

Wilhelmina  nodded.     "  I  like  French,"  she  said. 

"  My  word !  Ou  ay,  Mademoiselle's  a  better  com- 
panion for  ye  than  yon  nurse  o'  yours." 

"No,  no!"  cried  Wilhelmina.     "I  love  Jane!" 

He  smiled  and  stroked  her  hair  timidly  with  his  worn 
old  hand.  "  Puir  lassie !  puir  bit  thing !  "  he  said  gen- 
tly. "Weel,  an'  what  did  ye  think  o'  the  sermon  on 
Sabbath?" 

She  did  not  reply ;  but  he  guessed  from  the  quickness 
of  her  breathing  that  something  serious  was  coming. 

"  Mr.  Darsie,"  she  said  at  last,  "  you  must  have  met 
a  lot  of  the  elect  in  your  time  ? " 

Here  was  a  poser!  Perhaps  the  theologian  and  the 
man-of-the-world  suggested  widely  different  answers,  and 
while  he  weighed  one  against  the  other,  the  old  man  had 
much  ado  to  keep  his  face  straight. 

"  Weel " — he  said  slowly — "  ye'd  wonder !  Maybe  no 
sae  mony  as  ye'd  think,  Miss  Mina." 

"  Far  more  than  I  have  ?  " 

"Oh,  nae  doubt!" 

She  poked  her  umbrella  into  a  chink  in  the  floor. 
"  And  were  they — were  most  of  them  good  sort  of  people 
— in  a  common  way,  you  know — before  they  were  con- 
verted?" 

He  looked  perplexed. 

"  I  mean,"  said  the  child  desperately,  "  of  course  till 
they  were  converted  you  couldn't  tell  whether  they  were 


66  WINDYHAUGH. 

elect  or  not.  But  afterwards — when  you  came  to  think 
about  it — had  most  of  them  been  good? — sort  of  good, 
you  know  ? " 

His  face  was  grave.  "  Eh,  Missy,  I'd  be  loath  to  an- 
swer ( yes '  or  '  no  '  to  that;  but  I'm  fain  to  think  God's 
ain  elect  had  aye  gude  stuff  in  them !  " 

This  was  hopeful  so  far.  She  thought  he  would  say, 
if  asked,  that  she  too  had  good  stuff  in  her. 

"  On  the  one  hand  there's  the  story  o'  Cornelius,"  he 
went  on  reflectively,  taking  refuge  on  the  sure  ground 
of  history ;  "  on  the  other  hand  there's  John  Bunyan. 
Ye'll  have  heard  o'  his  Grace  Abounding  to  the  Chief 
of  Sinners — that  was  himsel',  ye  ken." 

A  minute  later  Wilhelmina  went  bounding  back  to 
the  draper's  where  she  had  left  Mademoiselle.  It  was 
annoying  to  find  that  she  might  have  stayed  a  little 
longer;  the  governess  was  still  absorbed  in  her  pur- 
chases. 

"  Well,"  she  said  absently,  "  did  you  get  the  partic'- 
lar  kind  of  butter-scotch  ?  " 

The  child's  face  fell.    She  had  forgotten  all  about  it ! 

But  she  did  not  forget  to  rout  out  Grace  Abounding 
from  the  library  shelves,  and  she  fell  asleep  that  night 
with  the  musty  old  book  in  her  arms. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FOG. 

WHEN  Mademoiselle  had  spent  a  couple  of  months  at 
Windyhaugh,  she  assumed — somewhat  rashly — that  at 
least  she  knew  the  worst  of  the  old  place.  It  was  dull 
beyond  conception,  of  course;  but  the  very  extremity  of 
its  dulness  provided  food  for  those  piquant  letters  on 
which  she  not  unjustly  prided  herself;  and,  when  things 
seemed  intolerable,  she  often  laughed  to  think  how  she 
would  entertain  her  friends  when  she  was  free  to  reveal 
by  word  of  mouth  the  secrets  of  her  prison-house. 


FOG.  67 

Her  pupil's  progress,  too,  continued  to  be  a  matter  of 
real  interest;  and,  by  dint  of  making  the  most  of  every 
scrap  of  gossip — not  to  say  scandal — that  came  within 
reach,  the  governess  hoped  to  be  able  to  endure  her  sur- 
roundings till  midsummer.  She  no  longer  had  any  scru- 
ples about  joining  the  servants  in  the  fine  old  kitchen 
when  the  day's  work  was  done;  and,  although  they 
showed  a  laudable  freemasonry  in  their  information 
about  the  absent  Jane,  they  said  enough  to  convince 
Mademoiselle  that  the  girl  had  mistaken  her  vocation. 
For  the  first  time  now  she  heard,  too,  the  mysterious  tales 
about  Wilhelmina's  father  with  which  the  neighbourhood 
was  rife,  and  he  began  to  loom  in  her  imagination 
as  an  injured  hero  of  romance.  "He  is  certainly  a 
roue"  she  wrote — "  though  of  such  a  superior  kind ! — 
and  who  can  wonder  ?  I  shall  be  ripe  for  a  round  of  the 
music-halls  myself  when  I  leave  Windyhaugh,  and,  if 
there  is  a  risque  item  in  the  programme,  I  am  sure  I 
shan't  be  the  one  to  protest.  You  can't  imagine  how  de- 
moralising the  religious  life  is !  " 

So,  what  with  one  thing  and  another,  she  bore  up 
wonderfully  till  Christmas  came.  She  had  expected 
little  from  the  festival,  but,  beyond  a  few  greetings  from 
absent  friends,  it  brought  her  absolutely  nothing.  The 
day  was  simply  ignored.  "  And  we  call  ourselves  a 
Christian  household !  " 

To  be  sure,  it  was  to  the  Lord  that  the  day  was  not 
regarded;  but,  in  spite  of  the  religious  books — in  her 
box — Mademoiselle  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  appre- 
ciate the  distinction. 

When  evening  came,  she  shed  actual  tears  in  the 
kitchen  over  Wilhelmina's  hard  fate,  and  made  the 
mouths  of  the  servants  water  as  she  related  tales  of  the 
kind  of  Christmas  she  had  been  wont  to  spend  in  the 
South. 

But  in  truth  Wilhelmina  considered  herself  a  very 
lucky  little  girl.  In  addition  to  Mademoiselle's  Christ- 
mas greetings,  the  postman  had  actually  brought  a  book- 
packet  that  morning  addressed  to  her  very  self!  She 
had  not  been  able  to  believe  her  eyes  at  first,  and, 
when  at  length  she  was  convinced,  she  had  opened  it 


68  WINDYHAUGH. 

with  the  most  reverent  care.  "  Wilhelmina,  with  love 
from  Hugh  and  Gavin,"  was  the  inscription  on  the  fly- 
leaf. 

"  Not  from  Aunt  Enid  herself?  "  asked  the  child  wist- 
fully. 

"  But  yes,  to  be  sure,"  answered  Mademoiselle  quick- 
ly. "  It  is  really  from  her,  though  she  has  put  the  boys' 
names  in  it." 

Wilhelmina  clasped  the  gaily  bound  volume  to  her 
breast.  "  Dear  Aunt  Enid !  "  she  murmured. 

The  book  was  the  bound  volume  of  a  children's  paper 
— rather  below  the  intellectual  level  of  this  particular 
child.  Presumably  Mrs.  Dalrymple  had  forgotten  the 
"  prodigious  memory  "  of  which  she  had  spoken  to  Mr. 
Galbraith;  and  indeed,  when  one  reflects  on  the  endless 
round  of  shopping — in  her  comfortable  brougham,  of 
course — that  Christmas  meant  for  her — the  only  wonder 
is  that  she  remembered  Wilhelmina  at  all. 

But  the  child  was  far  too  happy  to  be  critical.  She 
pored  over  the  sparsely-printed  pages  of  the  book,  and 
weeks  went  by  before  she  would  even  allow  herself  to 
admit  that  "  there  wasn't  much  reading  in  it." 

New  Year's  day  passed  as  Christmas  had  done. 
"  After  the  pudding  had  left  the  table,"  wrote  Made- 
moiselle, "  it  flashed  upon  me  that  there  may  have  been 
an  extra  plum  in  it;  but  at  that  stage  of  affairs  it  was 
of  course  too  late  to  institute  inquiries."  True,  Mrs. 
Galbraith  celebrated  the  day  by  the  donation  of  flannels 
and  coal  to  Mrs.  Tail-o'-the-week,  and  other  folk  of  the 
kind;  but  so  careful  was  she  to  keep  her  left  hand  un- 
aware of  the  doings  of  her  right,  that  her  household 
failed  to  wring  the  least  drop  of  seasonable  excitement 
from  her  charities. 

Then  the  weather  turned  against  them,  and  that  was 
the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all.  Eain  and  wind  there  had 
been  in  plenty,  but  now  a  thick  fog  came  up  from  the 
sea,  and  hung  over  the  homestead  like  a  cloud  of  doom. 
At  first  it  was  amusing,  but,  by  the  third  day,  it  was 
becoming  almost  terrible.  Mrs.  Galbraith's  great  idea 
was  to  "keep  it  out  of  the  house,"  so  no  windows  were 
opened,  and  the  air  became  stifling.  Mademoiselle's 


FOG.  69 

spirits  failed  completely,  and  Wilhelmina  began  to  look 
as  if  she  had  committed  a  crime.  Most  of  us  have  a 
weak  point  that  is  the  first  to  suffer  under  a  strain. 
Mademoiselle's  weak  point  was  her  head;  Wilhelmina's 
was  her  conscience.  She  could  keep  it  at  bay  during 
daylight,  though  she  was  not  allowed  to  leave  the  house ; 
but  she  began  to  dread  the  nights  unspeakably. 

Fortunately,  on  the  fourth  day  an  event  occurred 
that  broke  the  dreaded  monotony.  The  fog  did  not  clear 
away.  No,  but  the  cat  kittened.  "  And  I  assure  you," 
wrote  Mademoiselle,  "  no  long-delayed  birth  of  an  heir 
to  a  noble  house  was  ever  hailed  with  warmer  acclama- 
tions than  was  the  arrival  of  those  three  morsels  of 
felinity.  I  fear  the  moral  effect  on  Tabby  will  be  dis- 
astrous, but  we  are  all  too  glad  of  the  distraction  to 
think  of  her  character  and  welfare." 

At  the  end  of  a  week  the  fog  was  dispersed  by  a  gale ; 
but  the  gale  brought  snow  which  rendered  the  roads  im- 
passable, and,  before  the  resulting  slush  was  gone,  the 
fog  returned. 

"  No,"  said  Mademoiselle.  "  '  The  life  is  more  than 
meat  and  the  body  raiment.'  I  must  go." 

She  was  leaning  against  the  garden  gate,  and  her 
long  wavering  had  just  ended  in  this  conclusion,  when  a 
cheerful  face  broke  through  the  fog. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur,"  she  cried,  "  so  there  really  are  some 
men  still  out  there  in  the  world  ? " 

Mr.  Carmichael  laughed.  "  There  are,"  he  said — "  a 
few  that  one  could  dispense  with  even.  Had  you  begun 
to  doubt  it?" 

She  nodded,  and,  to  her  great  disgust,  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  Really  her  nerves  were  going  to  pieces  in 
this  terrible  place. 

He  took  note  of  her  tears  in  his  own  fashion. 

"  You  are  well  met,"  he  said  cordially.  "  I  was  hop- 
ing to  see  you  by  yourself  for  a  few  minutes.  I  wanted 
to  ask  your  advice.  A  friend  has  asked  me  to  recom- 
mend a  few  modern  French  books — fiction  that  steers  a 
middle  course  between  the  Scylla  of  goodiness  and  the 
Charybdis " 

She  nodded  again  with  ready  comprehension,  and  for 


TO  WINDYHAUGH. 

some  time  they  paced  up  and  down  the  avenue  discuss- 
ing literature.  When  that  subject  nagged,  he  fell  back 
on  Paris.  He  had  spent  a  week  in  the  gay  metropolis 
during  his  student  days,  and  the  amount  of  capital  he 
had  made  out  of  that  week  in  his  conversations  with 
Mademoiselle  was  not  a  little  to  his  credit. 

"  I  fear  it  is  dull  here  in  this  trying  weather,"  he  said 
at  last,  when  she  was  obviously  herself  again. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur,  dull  ?  No !  Leave  that  mild  little 
word  for  the  prisons  and  reformatories !  " 

He  laughed.     "Is  it  so  bad  as  that?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  what  it  is.  No  fete  de  Noel!  no 
jour  de  Van.  I  assure  you  I  have  wept  for  the  pauvre 
petite." 

She  was  a  tactful  woman,  Mademoiselle.  She  had 
taken  his  measure  carefully,  and  was  now  giving  him 
just  as  much  of  her  native  language  as  was  likely  to 
natter  without  overwhelming  him. 

"  No  one  could  wish  for  a  better  pupil,"  she  contin- 
ued, "but  it  is  no  use.  I  cannot  stand  it.  I  grow  ill 
and  unnerved.  Just  as  you  came  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  must  go." 

"  Ah !  "  he  said.  "  That  will  be  a  great  loss  to  the 
child." 

Mademoiselle  sighed.  "  I  too  have  many  regrets  in 
leaving  her,  especially  as  her  nurse  is  not  a  person  to  be 
trusted." 

Mr.  Carmichael  remembered  vaguely  that  Mr.  Darsie 
had  remarked  the  same  thing. 

"  That  is  serious,"  he  said. 

"  I  assure  you  it  is  very  serious.  I  wish  you  would 
counsel  me,  Monsieur.  The  young  woman  is  away  just 
now,  and,  as  I  mean  to  leave  myself One  is  un- 
willing to  do  an  injury  to  a  girl  who  must  earn  her 
bread." 

He  drew  down  his  brows,  as  his  habit  was.  "  Have 
you  definite  facts  ?  " 

"  But  yes,  yes." 

"  Then  surely  your  path  is  clear.  Speak  to  the  young 
woman  herself.  If  she  has  done  anything  wrong,  per- 
suade her  to  own  up  to  her  mistress.  At  the  worst  she 


FOG.  71 

will  do  it  to  prevent  your  doing  it,  and  you  are  bound 
to  give  her  that  much  moral  chance." 

Mademoiselle  laughed — one  of  those  light  little 
laughs  that  float  like  bubbles  on  the  well  of  worldly 
wisdom. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur !  "  she  cried. 

But  he  continued  to  look  at  her  gravely,  and  she  was 
forced  to  go  on. 

She  could  turn  the  facts  into  nothing,  if  she  had  the 
relating  of  them.  Mrs.  Galbraith  believes  in  her,  and 
she  has  never  quite  believed  that  a  Frenchwoman  may 
be  honest.  I  suppose  I  had  better  let  things  alone.  I 
shall  only  burn  my  fingers  if  I  interfere." 

"Then  burn  your  fingers  in  God's  name,"  he  said 
gravely,  "  if  there  is  any  question  of  injury  to  the  child. 
But,  if  I  were  you,  I  should  speak  to  the  young  woman 
herself  first.  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Galbraith  will  be  able 
to  see  me  this  afternoon  ?  " 

They  had  come  in  sight  of  the  house,  and  of  poor 
captive  Wilhelmina,  whose  woe-begone,  conscience-rid- 
den face  was  pressed  against  the  window-pane.  Her 
expression  changed  in  a  moment  when  she  saw  she  was 
observed. 

"  You  have  never  walked  from  Queensmains  through 
such  roads,"  said  Mrs.  Galbraith  as  she  greeted  the  min- 
ister. 

"  No ;  my  landlady  is  ill,  and  I  am  spending  a  few 
days  with  her  brother,  Mr.  Dalgleish,  at  the  farm  here. 
He  has  offered  me  his  gig  for  the  afternoon,  and,  now 
that  the  sun  is  trying  to  break  through,  I  want  you  to 
lend  me  Wilhelmina.  She  looks  as  if  a  drive  would  do 
her  good,  and  it  is  time  she  and  I  made  friends.  I  will 
bring  her  back  quite  safely  before  dark." 

So  Wilhelmina  was  smothered  in  wraps,  and  perched 
up  on  the  high  seat  beside  her  pastor.  The  sun  fairly 
broke  through  the  clouds,  and  the  colour  came  to  her 
cheeks  as  they  trotted  swiftly  along.  She  was  dread- 
fully shy  at  first,  but  she  soon  began  to  look  as  if  a 
mountain  of  apprehension  had  been  lifted  from  her 
mind,  and  she  chatted  gaily,  as  a  child  should,  about 
the  people  and  things  they  passed  on  the  way. 


72  WINDYHAUGH. 

At  the  grocer's  door,  Mr.  Carmichael  drew  up,  and 
took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  A  visitor,  Mr.  Darsie ! "  he  cried.  "  I  will  leave 
her  here  for  half-an-hour  in  case  she  should  catch  cold, 
while  I  make  a  few  brief  visitations." 

"  My  word !  "  cried  the  old  man  delightedly.  He 
left  the  boy  to  mind  the  shop,  and  took  his  little  lady 
upstairs  to  the  snug  sitting-room,  where  he  contrived  to 
find  a  slice  of  cake.  She  still  felt  the  exhilaration  of 
the  drive,  and  prattled  away  light-heartedly;  but  when 
the  time  drew  near  for  her  to  go,  she  became  suddenly 
pale  and  silent,  and  began  to  tug  at  her  damp  little 
hands. 

"  Mr.  Darsie,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  hurried  under- 
tone, taking  the  fence  at  a  run,  "  I  get  so  frightened  at 
nights  now.  I  can't  help  saying  things  against  the  Holy 
Ghost — in  my  mind,  you  know,  not  loud  out — and  I 
pray  for  the  awfullest  things.  Last  night  I  couldn't 
help  praying  God  to  make  me  blind  before  morning !  " 

Her  face  quivered  painfully,  and  she  looked  as  the 
prisoner  might  who  awaits  the  appearance  of  the  black 
cap. 

The  old  man  laughed  quite  tenderly  as,  for  the  first 
time,  he  lifted  her  on  his  knee. 

"  But  He  didna  do  it,  did  He,  Miss  Mina  ?  Na,  na ! 
I  wouldna  wonner  but  He  was  better  employed.  The 
Lord's  no'  in  sic  a  hurry  to  answer  our  prayers  when 
they're  wiselike  that  He  should  pay  ony  attention  to 
foolishness  like  yon.  Put  your  mind  past  it  a'thegither ; 
an'  if  the  thochts  will  come,  just  think  o'  something 
bonny — your  books,  or  your  dolls  for  the  matter  o'  that. 
It's  a  peety  to  pay  ower  muckle  attention  to  the  wiles  o' 
the  devil." 

Wilhelmina  could  not  speak;  but  she  clasped  the  old 
hand  in  both  of  hers,  and  the  blood  rushed  back  into  her 
face  with  such  force  that  it  almost  blinded  her. 

It  is  not  the  cassock  that  makes  the  priest — and, 
whatever  his  own  spiritual  experiences  may  have  been, 
old  Mr.  Darsie  had  not  studied  the  lives  of  the  saints 
for  nothing. 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE.  73 

CHAPTEK  XL 

A   BOLT   FROM   THE   BLUE. 

"  FLIGHTY  she  may  be,"  said  Mrs.  Galbraith,  "  and  I 
know  she  is  quick  in  the  temper;  but  she  has  grown  up 
in  an  honest  family  under  my  own  eye,  and  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe  she  is  a  Christian  woman." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt  she  is  that !  "  said  Mademoiselle  flip- 
pantly. She  had  grown  sick  of  the  word  "  Christian  " 
at  Windyhaugh,  and  she  thought  the  sarcasm  would  es- 
cape Mrs.  Galbraith. 

But  the  old  lady  was  not  quite  a  fool.  "  I  am  sorry 
you  have  not  been  happy  with  us,"  she  said  with  dignity. 
"  I  know  it  is  very  quiet  here.  I  am  too  old  to  care  for 
worldly  gaiety,  and  I  am  anxious  that  the  child  should 
grow  up  independent  of  it.  Besides,  in  the  country  here 
it  is  not  easy  to  provide  entertainment  for  our — for  those 
who  sojourn  with  us." 

"  One  would  think  I  had  asked  for  a  Punch  and  Judy 
show  on  the  lawn ! "  thought  Mademoiselle  indignantly, 
and  the  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes.  She  had  meant  to 
take  this  opportunity  of  striking  a  blow  for  Wilhelmina ; 
but,  behold,  the  fortress  was  quite  impregnable! 

"  It  grieves  my  heart  to  part  with  the  child,"  she 
said.  "  I  never  had  a  better  pupil.  Already  she  can 
read  a  little  French  story  with  charming  accent.  I  am 
sure  her  father  would  be  proud  of  it."  Poor  Mademoi- 
selle !  How  she  had  longed  for  some  accident  that  might 
bring  Mr.  Galbraith  to  pass  a  skilled  opinion  on  her 
work. 

The  old  lady  winced.  She  quite  appreciated  the 
slight  stress  on  the  word  "  father." 

"  I  hope  you  will  get  some  one  to  take  my  place," 
continued  Mademoiselle.  "It  is  a  thousand  pities  that 
the  lessons  should  be  interrupted." 

Mrs.  Galbraith  smiled  quietly.  "I  have  no  doubt 
you  have  done  your  duty  well,"  she  said ;  "  but — I  fear 
our  country  life  is  not  adapted  to  your  countrywomen." 


74:  WINDYHAUGH. 

This  was  too  hard. 

"  But,  Madame,"  cried  the  little  governess,  you  are 
unjust !  I  have  met  many,  many  of  your  countrywomen, 
and  I  find  them  no  less  frivolous  than  my  own.  I  too 
have  been — ah,  so  happy! — in  the  country;  but  here — 
here 1" 

It  was  useless.  She  had  not  an  arrow  in  her  quiver 
that  was  worth  trying  against  a  citadel  like  that. 

Mrs.  Galbraith  rose  to  her  feet  with  a  sigh.  She 
was  not  feeling  well  to-day,  and  this  interview  had  ex- 
cited and  tired  her. 

"  I  hope  the  maids  have  done  all  they  could  for  you," 
she  said  courteously.  "  I  will  tell  cook  to  prepare  your 
sandwiches." 

The  word  "  cook "  always  irritated  Mademoiselle. 
She  had  never,  she  declared,  seen  anything  at  Windy- 
haugh  that  justified  the  name  of  cookery,  and  poor  old 
Ann  figured  in  her  letters  under  the  soubriquet  of  the 
cordon  ~bleu.  In  truth  Ann's  position  approached  as 
nearly  that  of  confidential  servant  as  was  possible  where 
Mrs.  Galbraith  was  the  mistress.  She  was  the  one 
person  in  the  house — perhaps  the  one  in  the  world — for 
whom  the  old  lady  was  really  a  human  being,  to  be  loved 
and  cared  for  as  well  as  respected  and  feared. 

"  Ann,"  said  her  mistress  now,  "  you  will  see  that 
Mademoiselle  has  some  sandwiches ;  and  as  soon  as  Jane 
comes,  send  her  up  to  speak  to  me." 

The  woman  saw  that  something  was  wrong. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  she  said.  "Can  I  bring  you  a  cup  of 
soup,  ma'am?  You  made  a  very  poor  dinner." 

"  No,  no.  I  want  nothing  now.  Send  Jane  up  as 
soon  as  she  comes." 

Meanwhile  Mademoiselle  was  seeking  her  pupil  in 
the  garden. 

"  Ah,  petite"  she  said,  "  I  wish  I  could  say  anything 
to  convince  you  how  important  it  is  that  you  should  not 
forget  what  I  have  taught  you.  You  will  have  a  battle 
to  fight  with  life  some  day,  and  I  have  put  one  weapon 
in  your  hand — a  better  weapon  than  you  know.  Don't 
throw  it  away !  You  can  think  of  nothing  now  but  your 
dear  Jane  " — Wilhelmina's  eyes  were  scanning  the  high- 


1  A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE.  75 

road — "  but  promise  me  one  thing.  Promise  that  every 
day  you  will  read  aloud  one  of  the  little' French  stories 
you  have  read  with  me — carefully,  carefully,  saying  to 
yourself,  '  Is  that  how  Mademoiselle  would  like  to 
hear  it*'" 

"  Why,  of  course  I  will,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Wilhel- 
mina  readily,  "  and  I  am  so  sorry  you  are  going ; "  but 
her  eyes  still  scanned  the  highroad. 

Mademoiselle  drove  off  in  a  hired  trap,  and  ten  min- 
utes later  Jane  arrived  on  the  baker's  cart.  She  looked 
flustered  and  unlike  herself,  but  she  clasped  Wilhelmina 
in  her  arms  with  all  the  old  fondness.  "  1  didn't  forget 
you,"  she  whispered.  "  I've  got  a  doll  in  my  box — not 
very  grand,  but  the  nicest  I  could  get." 

"  The  mistress  wants  to  see  you  at  once,"  said  Ann 
quietly,  and,  with  a  vague  sense  that  something  serious 
was  impending,  she  ushered  the  girl  into  the  old  lady's 
room. 

"Well,  Jane,"  said  Mrs.  Galbraith,  "I  hope  your 
mother  is  really  better." 

Jane  seemed  sorely  nervous  and  upset.  "  Yes,  ma'am, 
thank  you,"  she  stammered ;  "  but  she  can't  do  without 
me  as  well  as  she  once  could.  I  think — that  is,  I'm 
afraid — I  shall  have  to  go  back  to  her  in  a  month  or  so." 

"  I  hope  the  doctor  doesn't  think  there  is  anything 
serious  ? " 

"No,  ma'am,  no.  But  I  think — she  thinks — I  had 
better  go  home." 

Her  manner  was  so  distraught  that  Mrs.  Galbraith 
looked  at  her  sharply.  "  She  could  turn  the  facts  into 
nothing,"  Mademoiselle  had  said,  "  if  she  had  the  relat- 
ing of  them ;  "  but  there  are  facts  that  cannot  be  turned, 
facts  that  need  no  relating. 

Mrs.  Galbraith  rose  to  her  feet,  pale  with  righteous 
indignation. 

"  Jane,"  she  said,  "  is  it  possible  ? — you  that  I  have 
known  from  a  bairn? — is  it  possible  you  have  deceived 
me?" 

The  girl  dropped  down  on  her  knees. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,"  she  cried,  "  I  am  engaged  to  him,  I 
am  indeed!     He  had  promised  to  marry  me  by  now." 
G 


Y6  WINDYHAUGH. 

"Is  he  here?" 

"  At  Queensmains." 

"  So  that  is  what  brought  you  back — for  a  month," 
said  Mrs.  Galbraith  drily.  "  No,  Jane,  it  won't  do.  You 
must  go  home  to-morrow.  And  to  think  that  I  trusted 
you  with  the  child!  Go  downstairs — go,  go.  I  cannot 
speak  to  you  now.  I  will  see  you  before  you  leave.  Tell 
Ann  to  send  Wilhelmina  to  me." 

Tell  Ann  to  send  Wilhelmina!  It  was  more  than 
Jane  could  bear.  "  Oh,  my  darling,  my  darling ! "  she 
cried,  waylaying  the  child  on  the  stair.  "  They'll  teach 
you  to  look  on  me  as  the  dirt  under  your  feet ;  but  I  aye 
loved  you,  I  did  indeed !  " 

"  See  an'  not  anger  your  Grannie,"  said  Ann  severely. 
"  She's  no'  hersel'  the  day." 

All  this  was  quite  sufficient  to  shake  Wilhelmina's 
nerve  for  the  interview,  and  the  sight  of  her  grand- 
mother looking  flushed  and  disturbed  did  not  tend  to 
reassure  her. 

"  Wilhelmina,"  began  the  old  lady ;  and  then  she 
stopped.  Her  heart  was  so  full  of  love  and  fear  for  the 
child  that  she  had  not  reflected  how  difficult  it  would  be 
to  express  her  feelings  in  words. 

So  there  was  a  painful  silence. 

"  Wilhelmina,"  she  began  again,  "  I  fear  your  nurse 
is  not  as  good  a  woman  as  I  thought  her." 

"  I  think  she's  good,"  said  Wilhelmina  quickly.  She 
had  long  suspected  that  Jane  was  not  converted.  Had 
Grannie  only  now  discovered  the  fact? 

"  I  trusted  you  to  her,  and  I  doubt  she's  deceived  me. 
I  hear  she  has  made  you  acquainted  with — people — that 
weren't  fitting  company  for  the  like  of  you." 

"  No,  she  didn't,"  said  Wilhelmina  stoutly.  "  I  only 
saw  them  now  and  then.  Oh,  dear!  I  hope  she  won't 
think  I  told." 

"What  do  you  mean,  child?  You  only  saw  them 
now  and  then  ?  " 

"  She  left  me  behind." 

"  Where  did  she  leave  you  ?  " 

"In  a  shop." 

"What  shop?" 


A  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE.  >ft 

Wilhelmina  hesitated,  but  she  had  been  told  not  to 
anger  her  grannie.  "  Mr.  Darsie's." 

One  would  have  thought  this  likely  to  be  reassuring 
enough;  but  Mr.  Darsie,  with  all  the  respectability  con- 
ferred on  him  by  his  proud  position  as  an  elder  of  the 
kirk,  had  a  reputation  for  being  a  trifle  "  unsoond,"  and 
to  Mrs.  Galbraith  "  unsoondness  "  was  almost  worse  than 
immorality. 

"  Mr.  Darsie !  "  she  said,  "  and  what  did  you  and  he 
find  to  talk  about?" 

Wilhelmina  hesitated  again. 

"  Sermons  and  things,"  she  said  at  last.  So  long  as 
Grannie  did  not  find  out  about  the  sweets,  surely  no 
great  harm  was  done. 

Mrs.  Galbraith  wrung  her  hands. 

"  Bairn,"  she  said,  "  Jane's  not  a  good  woman.  She's 
going  away.  I  don't  say  a  word  against  Mr.  Darsie. 
He's  an  elder  of  the  kirk;  but  he's  not  a  fitting  com- 
panion for  you.  You'll  smile  to  him  when  you  meet 
him,  of  course;  but  you  must  promise  that  you  won't 
go  into  his  shop  any  more,  or  speak  to  him  more  than 
you  can  help !  " 

This  was  too  much.  Wilhelmina  forgot  all  about 
Ann's  warning. 

"7  won't"  she  cried.  "I  love  Jane!  I  love  Mr. 
Darsie!  They  are  my  two  partic'lar  friends.  I  must 
see  them ! " 

She  was  prepared  for  almost  anything  in  return  for 
so  unprecedented  an  outburst;  but  what  happened  was 
precisely  the  thing  she  did  not  expect.  The  old  lady  did 
not  speak.  She  was  looking  so  queer.  She  made  a  little 
movement  with  one  of  her  hands,  and  then,  to  Wilhel- 
mina's  horror,  she  began  to  slip  heavily  over  sideways  in 
her  high-backed  chair. 

The  child  rushed  to  support  her,  but  had  only  strength 
enough  to  break  the  inevitable  fall. 

"  Grannie,  Grannie !  "  she  said. 

There  was  no  reply.  She  was  not  dead.  No,  her 
face  was  still  red,  and  she  was  breathing  so  loud.  It 
was  terrible  to  have  her  so  near,  and  yet  so  far  away. 

Wilhelmina  lay  the  poor  grey  head  on  the  floor. 


78  WIKDYHAUGH. 

"  Grannie !  "  she  cried  again. 
Then  with  a  bound  she  reached  the  door. 
"Jane!    Jane!    Ann!"    she    shrieked.     "  Grannie's 
tumbled  down.     Come  quick!     Come  quickl" 


CHAPTEK  XH. 
TEA  AT  RUMPELMAYER'S. 

SUNSHINE  without  a  cloud,  and  the  blue  water  break- 
ing with  a  delicious  splash  on  the  shingle  of  the  beach. 

The  band  was  playing  a  waltz  by  Strauss  in  the  pa- 
vilion among  the  palm-trees,  and  Enid  sat  just  within 
hearing  of  it  as  she  sipped  her  afternoon  tea  from  Rum- 
pelmayer's  dainty  china. 

She  looked  like  the  very  spirit  of  the  Riviera  in  a 
wonderful  toilette  that  flashed  subtly  into  blues  and 
greens;  and  not  a  few  curious  glances  were  directed 
towards  the  chair  she  had  reserved. 

Yet  the  man  who  took  it  eventually  did  not  seem  to 
be  overwhelmed  by  a  sense  of  his  privileges.  He  was 
a  great,  bluff,  tweeded,  well-groomed  Englishman,  and 
at  the  present  moment  he  was  in  a  very  surly  humour. 

"  Bad  luck,  I  see,"  said  Enid  laconically  in  the  well- 
modulated  voice  that  is  so  seldom  heard  in  places  where 
the  nations  congregate.  "  Have  some  tea  ?  " 

He  nodded  to  the  attendant  who  offered  it. 

"  Deuced  bad  luck,"  he  said  under  his  breath.  "  I 
shan't  go  near  the  confounded  place  again." 

"  Oh,  you  are  going  to  take  me  one  day  next  week — 
unless  Ronald  comes  out.  I  never  have  bad  luck."  And 
she  sighed.  She  did  so  hate  to  see  money  thrown  away ! 

He  shook  himself  like  a  great  St.  Bernard,  and 
changed  the  subject.  "  I  met  Gavin  out  there  on  his 
donkey.  What  a  capital  seat  the  little  fellow  has  al- 
ready!" 

She  nodded.  "  I  had  a  letter  from  Hugh  this  morn- 
ing." 


TEA  AT  RUMPELMAYER'S.  79 

"  Oh  ?  I  suppose  he  is  delighted  at  the  prospect  of 
joining  us  at  Easter." 

"  I  think  so.  He  always  expresses  himself  philosoph- 
ically, that  young  man.  He  wants  to  bring  a  ferret 
with  him." 

"Good  Lord!" 

"  Is  anxious  to  know  if  he  will  have  to  pay  duty 
on  it." 

"I  should  think  there  is  no  precedent.  Tell  him 
they  will  retain  the  ferret  at  Calais  while  they  bring  the 
question  before  the  ministry." 

"  Are  they  vicious  things  ?  " 

"  Custom  house  officers  ?  " 

"  No.  I  know  all  about  them.  Ferrets  aren't  as  bad 
as  that,  are  they?" 

"  Much  the  same,  I  fancy ;  and,  as  Hugh  is  certain 
to  starve  the  little  brute  sooner  or  later,  it  will  have 
abundant  excuse  for  making  a  meal  off  anyone  who 
comes  handy." 

Enid  sighed.  "I  do  hate  to  disappoint  him."  She 
always  found  that  absence  endeared  her  son  to  her,  and 
she  gave  it  abundant  opportunity  of  doing  so. 

"  Don't  disappoint  him.  Tell  him  to  stay  at  home 
with  the  ferret." 

"  Poor  boy !  "  She  drew  the  letter  from  her  pocket. 
"  Oh,  I  see,  there  is  a  postscript  over  the  page — l  P.S. 
The  ferret  isn't  born  yet.' " 

Mr.  Dalrymple  threw  back  his  head,  and  laughed  as 
only  an  Englishman  can.  "  Let  us  hope  there  has  been 
some  little  miscalculation  as  to  dates.  I  have  known  it 
happen.  Have  you  finished  your  tea?  Come  out.  I 
want  to  talk  to  you." 

It  was  a  considerable  time,  however,  before  he  said — 

"  Who  do  you  think  I  saw  at  Monte  Carlo  ? — enjoy- 
ing a  jolly  run  of  luck  too !  " 

"Not  Ronald?" 

"No.     George  Galbraith." 

"  Indeed !  Well,  I  am  glad  of  it,  poor  fellow.  Did 
you  speak  to  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Dalrymple  nodded.  "  He  says  he  met  you  at  the 
Cosmopolis  in  the  autumn." 


80  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Yes.    Didn't  I  mention  it  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Keally?  George  Galbraith's  little  dinners  deserve 
more  notice  than  that,  I  assure  you." 

"  Dinners !     Did  you  dine  with  him  ?  " 

"  At  the  hotel.     We  met  by  chance." 

Mr.  Dalrymple  seemed  to  find  some  difficulty  in  go- 
ing on. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Enid,"  he  said  at  last :  "  you 
mustn't  see  more  of  that  fellow  than  you  can  help.  You 
may  have  to  drop  him  any  day,  and  you  needn't  make 
the  business  more  difficult  than  necessary." 

"  I  haven't  the  least  intention  of  dropping  him.  My 
own  brother-in-law  ? " 

"Worse  luck!" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Fergus  ?  You  always  took  his 
part.  You  always  said  the  worst  thing  he  did  was  to 
give  in  to  circumstances  when  they  were  overwhelming." 

"  I  know  I  said  so.  But,  upon  my  soul,  I  don't  feel 
quite  sure.  If  everything  was  above  board  then,  why  has 
he  been  going  downhill  ever  since  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you  he  didn't  at  all  give  the  impression  of 
going  downhill  when  I  met  him  in  London." 

"No.  Every  now  and  then  he  has  a  run  of  the 
devil's  own  luck  at  the  tables,  and  then  he  holds  his  head 
as  high  as  ever ;  but  between  times — he  has  sense  enough 
not  to  show  between  times,  but  I  hear  all  sorts  of  ru- 
mours. He  is  shady,  Enid,  and  that  makes  me  wonder 
whether  there  was  no  more  in  the  old  story  than  we 
thought." 

"  You  are  very  unjust.  What  can  you  expect  ?  Give 
a  dog  a  bad  name !  I  admit  he  was  a  fool  to  re- 
sign his  position  in  the  embassy.  He  should  have  stouted 
it  out.  But  he  is  far  too  sensitive  for  a  man  of  the 
world." 

Fergus  frowned.  "  I  wish  I  knew  positively  that  he 
didn't  get  a  strong  hint  to  resign.  Of  course  if  there 
had  only  been  the  affair  with  Lady  Ellingford,  he  would 
simply  have  been  moved  on  to  another  diplomatic  centre. 
There  was  nothing  in  that  to  make  him  lose  caste  with 
men.  If  he  had  only  been  content  to  lie  low  for  a  bit! 


TEA  AT  RUMPELMAYER'S.  81 

But  to  have  that  phenomenal  success  at  baccarat  just 
when  the  scandale  was  at  its  height !  " 

"  The  success  would  have  done  him  no  harm  if  that 
young  idiot  hadn't  gone  and  shot  himself.  That  was 
what  did  the  mischief.  Why  can't  people  see  that,  how- 
ever regardless  a  suicide  may  be  of  the  happiness  of 
others,  he  at  least  rates  his  own  life  at  its  true  value." 

"  I  know.  It  was  hard  lines,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
I'd  stick  to  him.  But  I  didn't  allow  for  his  going  forth- 
with to  the  bow-wows." 

"  I  do  wish  you  would  be  explicit.  I  never  mistook 
George  for  a  saint ;  but  which  of  the  commandments  are 
you  referring  to  now  ?  " 

Fergus  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  No  need  to  drag 
the  commandments  into  it.  I  will  tell  you  something 
that  will  appeal  to  you.  They  say  your  'brother-in- 
law  '  is  paying  attention  to  a  woman  who  keeps  a  board- 
ing-house in  Harley  Street." 

Enid  turned  her  head  away. 

" Really,  Fergus !  "  she  said.  "I  did  think  you  had 
more  sense  than  to  listen  to  rubbish  like  that." 

"  I  didn't  listen  the  first  time ;  but  yesterday  I  heard 
the  story  again  with  all  sorts  of  circumstantial  details. 
Wait  a  bit.  Hear  me  out.  She  is  by  way  of  being  a 
a  gentlewoman  and  showing  the  world  how  the  thing 
should  be  done — trails  of  smilax  up  and  down  the  din- 
ner-table and  all  the  rest  of  it.  She  really  has  some 
good  people  in  the  house." 

Enid's  lip  curled.  "  I  hope  she  has  something  more 
substantial  than  trails  of  smilax  to  offer  them." 

"  Oh,  yes — as  it  chances ;  but  it  is  a  pure  fluke.  She 
has  an  excellent  cook:  but  she  isn't  aware  of  her  good 
fortune  in  the  matter,  and  hasn't  the  sense  to  grovel  to 
the  woman  when  they  have  a  difference  of  opinion.  The 
cook  is  the  lynch-pin  of  the  whole  establishment,  I  am 
told.  When  she  gives  warning " 

"  Let  us  hope,"  said  Enid  with  burning  sarcasm, 
"  she  will  give  warning  in  time  to  save  George  from  his 
doom.  Really,  Fergus!  George  may  have  gone  down- 
hill, as  you  say ;  but  at  least — if  he  chose  to  marry  again 
— he  could  have  a  nice  girl  with  money." 


82  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Could  he  ?  I  am  not  so  sure.  I  should  advise  the 
nice  girl's  father  to  make  enquiries.  The  tables  are  an 
uncertain  source,  of  income.  You  have  no  notion  what 
low  water  he  has  been  in  sometimes.  On  the  other  hand, 
here  is  a  well-appointed  house  where  he  is  received  with 
open  arms,  where  a  good  dinner  awaits  him  any  day,  with 
society  not  so  very  good  but  what  he  can  star  round  in 
that  interesting  pose  of  his.  He  always  had  a  weakness 
for  playing  the  part  of  Cassar  in  a  village.  Of  course  I 
don't  suppose  he  has  any  intentions  of  matrimony  now; 
but  you  know  how  that  sort  of  thing  is  likely  to  end — 
though  of  course  this  run  of  luck  at  Monte  Carlo  may 
postpone  matters " 

"  Till  the  cook  gives  warning  ? "  Enid  fell  into  a 
reverie.  "  Old  Mrs.  Galbraith  can't  live  for  ever,"  she 
said  at  last.  "  She  has  only  a  lif erent  of  the  property." 

"  I  should  think  she  might  outlive  George  from  what 
you  tell  me.  Besides,  he  must  have  been  a  tremendous 
drain  on  her  resources.  Didn't  you  tell  me  she  had 
given  up  her  carriage  and  everything  ?  I  expect  he  con- 
verted his  expectations  into  hard  cash  some  time  ago. 
I  doubt  if  the  money  that  actually  comes  to  him  will 
be  enough  to  pay  his  debts." 

"  And  what  about  his  daughter  ?  " 

"Poor  child!"  he  said.  "Poor  Ehoda!  And  what 
a  brilliant  marriage  it  seemed  at  the  time !  From  the 
day  his  father  sent  him  to  Rugby,  George  Galbraith  had 
the  ball  at  his  feet.  How  I  used  to  envy  that  easy 
graceful  way  of  his!  And  now — he  is  glad  to  hang  up 
his  hat  in  the  hall  of  a  boarding-house!  You  might 
have  done  worse,  Enid,  after  all,  than  marry  the  clumsy 
old  fellow." 

But  she  was  not  in  a  mood  to  respond. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  if  that  is  how  things  stand,  I  can 
only  wish  Mrs.  Galbraith  long  life  for  Wilhelmina's 
sake." 

"  When  she  dies,  we  must  see  what  we  can  do  for  the 
little  puritan." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Fergus,  you  don't  know  the  child  as  I 
do !  Rhoda  was  always  the  serious  member  of  our  fam- 
ily; but  I  wish  you  saw  Wilhelmina!  For  sheer  stodgi- 


TEA  AT  RUMPELMAYER'S.  83 

ness,  she  surpasses  your  wildest  conception.  As  her  fa- 
ther's child,  she  is  a  pure  freak." 

"  She  may  be  none  the  worse  for  that  in  the  long-run. 
By  the  way,  you  didn't  gather  that  Mrs.  Galbraith  sus- 
pected George  in  the  matter  of  the  baccarat  ? " 

"  She  never  referred  to  him  in  the  most  distant  way. 
Oh,  no;  I  shouldn't  think  so.  Gambling  is  so  heinous 
a  crime  in  her  eyes  that  the  mere  formality  of  adhering 
to  the  rules  of  the  game  is  neither  here  nor  there." 

"  Well,  take  my  advice.  Let  him  down  gently.  He 
will  be  over  to  see  you  one  of  these  days.  And,  by  the 
way,  Enid,  when  Ronald  comes,  I  will  not  have  him 
take  Hugh  to  Monte  Carlo.  Of  course  they  are  not  sup- 
posed to  admit  minors  in  the  rooms;  but  I  won't  have 
Hugh  go  near  the  place  at  all.  Ronald  will  be  the  ruin 
of  the  boy  if  we  don't  take  care." 

Enid  feared  the  loss  must  be  rather  serious  which 
entailed  such  moralizings  as  these ;  but  she  had  sufficient 
self-restraint  to  keep  the  reflection  to  herself. 

Two  days  later  George  Galbraith  came  over  to  Men- 
tone.  He  found  Enid  ensconced  in  a  great  basket-chair 
among  the  palms  and  orange  trees  of  the  garden. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said  pleasantly.  "  Am  I  to  feel  myself 
flattered?  I  was  wondering  when  you  would  be  able  to 
tear  yourself  away  from  the  tricksy  goddess.  I  was  glad 
to  hear  from  Eergus  of  a  run  of  luck." 

He  smiled.  "  The  wheel  was  at  that  particular  stage, 
was  it,  when  I  met  Dalrymple?  Ah,  well!  I  did  not 
come  to  talk  about  that."  He  paused.  "  I  want  your 
advice,  Enid,"  he  said  simply. 

A  vivid  picture  of  trails  of  smilax  flashed  upon  her 
mental  vision.  " M on  Dieu!"  she  thought.  "Has  it 
got  so  far  already  ? "  But  his  next  words  reassured  her. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from — my  Mother's — man  of 
business." 

"  No  bad  news,  I  hope." 

"  She  is  ill — has  had  a  stroke  of  apoplexy." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  said  Enid  conventionally.  "  Then 
I  suppose  you  are  leaving  immediately  ? " 

"  No.    Her  directions  in  case  of  such  an  emergency 


84:  WINDYHAUGH. 

were  perfectly  explicit.  No  one  to  be  sent  for:  the  do- 
mestic routine  to  be  undisturbed ;  she  is  to  be  nursed  by 
her  maid,  Ann."  His  manner  was  quite  formal  and 
colourless:  it  pronounced  no  judgment  on  his  mother's 
wishes.  "  They  know  where  I  am  to  be  found  if— if  I 
am  wanted." 

"Poor  old  lady!  She  was  looking  so  well  when  I 
saw  her.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  pulled  through 

yet." 

He  bowed  gravely.  "I  believe  the  doctors  say  that 
at  her  age  it  is  only  a  matter  of  time.  The  question  is 
—What  am  I  to  do  with  Wilhelmina  ? " 

She  did  not  answer  immediately,  and  he  laughed  soft- 
ly; then  became  suddenly  conscious  that  the  laugh  had 
been  rather  an  uneasy  one. 

"  This  is  how  I  like  the  Mediterranean  best,"  he  said, 
"seen  through  a  tracery  of  foliage.  Has  anyone  sketched 
you  in  this  corner?  Do  you  know,  Enid,  I  have  never 
felt  so  much  afraid  of  anyone  in  my  life  as  I  do  of  that 
little  girl?" 

"  Poor  George !  "  she  said  sympathetically.  She  knew 
that  what  he  said  was  not  true — knew  that  he  feared 
Wilhelmina  simply  because  she  was  the  pale  reflection  of 
his  mother.  It  had  been  his  fate  all  along  to  suffer 
from  the  superiority  of  his  womankind.  He  would  have 
been  a  better  man  if  they  had  not  been  so  good.  First 
there  was  his  mother;  then  dear  Ehoda,  who  had  been 
"  superior  "  in  quite  a  different  way ;  and  now  Wilhel- 
mina. It  really  was  too  hard  that  she  should  not  have 
inherited  from  him  the  flexible  disposition  that  would 
adapt  itself  to  his  habits  and  moods. 

"  Poor  George !  "  she  repeated  reflectively. 

"  I  Understand  now  how  a  man  may  be  tempted  to 
marry  a  second  time." 

Visions  of  smilax  again,  and  a  sudden  rush  of  loyalty 
towards  her  dead  sister. 

"  Nonsense !  "  she  said  lightly.  "  Wilhelmina  is  eight 
years  old,  and  she  has  been  overmothered  till  now.  What 
she  wants  is  a  good  school.  In  the  natural  course  of 
events,  you  would  scarcely  see  her  for  the  next  ten  years. 
Marry  by  all  means  if  you  meet  a  nice  girl  whom  you — 


TEA  AT  RTJMPELMAYER'S.  85 

care  for,  and  who — would  be  a  credit  to  you;  but  don't 
talk  of  marrying  on  Wilhelmina's  account." 

He  did  not  speak  at  once.  With  half -closed  eyes  he 
was  watching  the  smoke  as  it  rose  against  a  background 
of  brilliant  blue  from  the  choice  cigar  in  his  hand. 

"  First-rate  schools,"  he  said  quietly,  "  are  an  expen- 
sive luxury  for  a  poor  man's  daughter,  and  anything 
short  of  first-rate  does  not  seem  to  me  worth  while.  What 
is  the  use  of  paying  a  couple  of  hundred  a  year  to  have 
a  girl  made  commonplace  ?  And,  from  what  you  tell  me, 
Wilhelmina  is  not  likely  to  prove  a  great  success  on 
conventional  lines.  Who  cares  what  a  girl  knows? — 
or  whether  she  knows  anything,  for  the  matter  of  that? 
What  signifies  a  rag  or  tag  of  i  accomplishment '  more  or 
less?  I  confess  I  should  like  her  to  marry  young,  and 
to  marry  reasonably  well.  The  question  is — What  is 
the  best  means  to  that  end  ? " 

He  paused,  but  she  did  not  help  him  out. 

"  Two  things  have  occurred  to  me,"  he  said,  forced 
to  go  on,  "  either  of  which  might  answer,  though  neither 
would  be  cheap.  First,  a  convent  education — that  al- 
ways gives  a  woman  a  certain  cachet; — or,  second,  a 
school  where  they  pay  special  attention  to  physical  de- 
velopment— golf  and  rowing  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 
He  mechanically  extended  his  arm,  and  then  contracted 
his  biceps  sharply;  there  had  been  a  time  when  George 
Galbraith  was  an  athlete,  and  even  now  he  kept  himself 
in  very  fair  condition  by  an  occasional  round  with  the 
gloves  or  with  the  foils. 

A  low  laugh  of  intense  amusement  was  Enid's  first 
reply  to  the  suggestion.  She  was  thinking  that  if 
George  Galbraith  wished  to  see  the  last  of  his  mother 
when  she  was  laid  in  the  grave,  he  had  better  not  talk 
of  sending  Wilhelmina  to  a  convent;  but  this  remark 
she  was  obliged  to  reserve  for  her  husband's  benefit. 

"  You  suggest  the  title  of  an  up-to-date  novel,"  she 
said,  "  Saint  or  Amazon  ?  Frankly,  I  don't  fancy  Wil- 
helmina in  either  role.  Why  not  send  her  in  the  first 
instance  to  a  quiet  little  school  in  France  or  in  the  south 
of  England?  By  and  bye,  when  there  is  a  question  of 
her  coming  out,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  what  I  can." 


86  WIKDYHAUGH. 

She  paused,  wondering  vaguely  whether  ten  years 
hence  the  Galbraiths  would  be  in  a  social  position  in 
which  "  coming  out "  was  possible.  Then  she  raised  her 
eyes  to  the  clear-cut,  cynical,  cultured  face  beside  her, 
and  banished  the  smilax  from  her  mind  as  a  meaningless 
nightmare. 

"  George,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  which  the  candour 
and  cordiality  were  unmistakable,  "  I  do  wish  I  could 
offer  to  take  your  daughter  into  my  own  home.  If  she 
took  after  our  family — or  after  her  father — nothing 
would  give  me  greater  pleasure.  She  is  a  dear  child, 
and  I  love  her ;  but  I  am  not  en  rapport  with  her.  I  am 
ill  at  ease  when  she  is  in  the  room.  She  always  seems 
to  be  saying,  i  You  are  weighed  in  the  balances — with 
my  grandmother  in  the  other  scale — and  are  found  want- 
ing ! '  Do  you  see  ?  Then  she  succeeds  in  putting 
Hugh's  back  up  somehow.  But  I  do  advise  you  to  send 
her  to  a  good  school,  and  later  on  I  will  do  what  I  can." 

"  It  would  be  the  making  of  her,"  he  said  with  real 
feeling,  "  if  you  would  give  her  a  hand.  She  couldn't 
but  catch  something  of  your  sympathy  and  tolerance. 
She  must  learn  from  you  in  spite  of  herself  that  nothing 
is  so  unbecoming  to  a  woman  as  the  disposition  to  sit 
in  judgment  on  the  world.  It  will  be  a  thousand  pities, 
Enid,  if  you  have  not  daughters  of  your  own." 

She  laughed,  turning  on  him  now  a  glance  as  warm 
as  that  in  which  he  had  sunned  himself  at  the  Cosmop- 
olis. 

"  You  must  introduce  me  to  that  blarney  stone,"  she 
said,  "  when  I  come  over  to  Monte  Carlo.  I  didn't  know 
they  kept  one  there.  Heigho!  With  all  your  knowl- 
edge of  women,  have  you  yet  to  learn  that  they  do  not 
look  on  women  as  men  do?  You  would  have  to  teach 
your  daughter  to  see  me  with  your  eyes !  " 

Ah,  Enid,  Enid!  How  dull  you  were  with  all  your 
cleverness.  Would  you  have  known  yourself,  I  wonder, 
had  you  seen  the  halo  of  romance  that  enshrined  you  in 
little  Wilhelmina's  mind? 


THE  LORD  WRITES  FINIS.  87 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   LORD   WRITES   FINIS. 

IT  was  growing  dark.  Wilhelmina  sat  in  the  high 
kitchen  window-seat,  with  her  feet  drawn  up,  and  her 
chin  resting  on  her  knees.  She  spent  much  of  her  time 
in  the  kitchen  now-a-days,  and — although  the  servants 
were  constantly  checking  the  conversation  on  her  ac- 
count— she  heard  enough  to  make  her  feel  that  the  great 
mysteries  of  birth  and  death  were  drawing  very  near. 

Life  for  the  moment  was  one  great  puzzle,  and  of 
course  nobody  would  help  her  out.  Nobody  would  an- 
swer her  eager  questions,  or  explain  why  Jane  was  more 
to  blame  than  all  the  other  women  to  whom  God  had 
sent  the  privilege  of  motherhood.  Ann  had  been  sorely 
distressed  because  Wilhelmina,  on  meeting  her  old  nurse 
accidentally  in  Queensmains,  had  rushed  impulsively 
into  her  arms;  and  the  extraordinary  thing  was  that 
even  Jane,  though  more  affectionate  than  ever,  had 
looked  ill  at  ease,  and  had  cut  the  interview  as  short  as 
possible. 

"  If  God  sent  a  baby  to  me,"  said  Wilhelmina  after- 
wards, "I  couldn't  help  it,  could  I?" 

Ann  begged  the  question  by  assuring  her  that  the 
event  was  not  at  all  likely  to  happen — at  present. 

"  But  how  can  you  tell  ?  " 

As  it  chanced,  however,  the  child  had  the  run  of  her 
teeth  in  the  library  at  this  time,  and  a  perusal  of  Chris- 
topher North's  Lights  and  Shadows  convinced  her  of  the 
undesirability  of  asking  questions  any  more.  Now  that 
the  inherent  curiosity  of  childhood  was  passing  by,  her 
mind  shewed  itself  receptive  rather  than  enquiring. 
When,  in  the  course  of  her  future  life,  she  came  near  the 
bottom  of  a  subject — as  we,  with  all  our  limitations, 
reckon  nearness — the  process  was  one  of  intellectual 
gravitation  rather  than  of  boring  and  blasting.  So  now, 
although  the  subject  of  birth  came  so  near,  it  remained 
for  years  a  gloomy  and  depressing  mystery — gloomy  and 


88  WINDYHAUGH. 

depressing  because  the  servants  spoke  of  it  as  a  vulgar 
unmentionable  commonplace. 

Death  too!  Death  so  near  that  the  household  had 
become  used  to  its  shadow,  and  lived  as  if  this  transient 
state  would  never  end. 

Wilhelmina  had  suffered  acutely  for  a  time  on  ac- 
count of  her  share  in  causing  her  grandmother's  illness. 
Fortunately  this  was  a  sorrow  at  which  those  around  her 
could  guess,  and  neither  doctors  nor  servants  had  been 
slow  to  administer  rough  and  ready  consolation.  But 
still,  when  night  came  on,  and  her  mind  began  to  work 
on  lower  planes,  the  anguish  returned,  shutting  out  even 
her  fears  about  her  own  salvation. 

Mrs.  Galbraith's  wishes  in  the  event  of  her  illness  had 
been  carried  out  almost  to  the  letter.  Indeed,  Ann's 
loyalty  to  her  unconscious  mistress  was  a  beautiful  thing 
to  see.  "  She  says  I'm  to  leave  the  morn,"  Jane  had 
wailed  when  she  went  down  to  the  kitchen  after  that 
painful  interview;  and  leave  she  did,  Ann  standing  by 
the  door  the  while  with  a  face  as  impartial  and  inexor- 
able as  that  of  the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword. 

At  first  the  nursing  had  proved  exceedingly  hard 
work,  and  Mrs.  Tail-o'-the-week  had  come  in  occasion- 
ally to  help;  but  by  degrees  a  routine  was  established, 
and  no  extra  hands  were  needed.  Ann  seldom  left  the 
sick-room  without  calling  either  Betsy  or  Wilhelmina  to 
take  her  place,  and  on  these  rare  occasions  a  bell  was 
fastened  to  the  patient's  unparalyzed  hand,  so  that  the 
slightest  movement  might  summon  her  attendants. 

The  evening  had  closed  in  wet,  and  the  wind  was 
rising  every  moment.  Already  its  breath  went  sobbing 
through  the  trees,  and  the  queer  old  house  began  to  moan 
in  sympathy. 

Suddenly  Wilhelmina  remembered  that  she  had  not 
read  her  French  story  for  the  day,  so  she  sprang  from 
the  window-seat  to  fetch  the  book.  True,  she  knew  the 
stories  by  heart  now;  but  she  had  promised  Mademoi- 
selle that  she  would  read  it,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  her 
to  fulfil  her  promise  in  the  spirit  only. 

She  had  just  finished  her  task  when  Ann  entered  the 
room,  looking  worn  and  worried. 


THE  LORD  WRITES  FINIS.  89 

"  Betsy  not  back?  "  she  said.  "  I'll  no'  let  her  go  to 
her  mother  again,  if  she  bides  so  late.  The  farm  folk 
will  be  in  their  beds  before  she  goes  to  fetch  the  milk; 
and  I  can't  see  your  Grannie  wanting  it!  I'll  just  run 
along  and  get  it  myself.  I'll  no'  be  long.  Put  the  chain 
up  after  me,  and  sit  with  your  Grannie  till  I  come  back. 
I  doubt  I  must  have  dropped  asleep,  for  I  see  the  fire's 
gone  out;  but  the  day's  been  warm,  and  Betsy'll  light 
it  when  she  comes  in." 

The  fire  in  the  kitchen  was  burning  brightly  enough, 
but  a  ripple  of  physical  cold  ran  over  Wilhelmina's 
body. 

"  Can't  I  fetch  the  milk? "  she  said  eagerly. 

"  No,  no.  I'd  be  feared  to  have  you  on  the  road  so 
late,  and  a  storm  coming  on  too!  Take  your  book  in 
your  hand,  and  I'll  be  back  before  you  know  it." 

Futile  consolation!  Time  passes  slowly  when  we 
count  it  by  heart-throbs ! 

Wilhelmina  put  up  the  chain  with  trembling  hands 
and  crept  upstairs.  The  curtains  were  drawn  for  the 
night,  and  the  sick-room  was  lighted  by  a  single  candle. 
With  noiseless  feet  she  approached  the  bed.  She  never 
entered  the  room  without  making  sure  that  Grannie  was 
still  alive. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it  now.  The  patient's 
breathing  was  audible  and  laboured;  so  the  child  sat 
down  on  a  low  stool  beside  the  candle,  and  essayed  to 
read. 

She  could  hear  her  own  heart  ticking  like  a  clock, 
and  she  shook  so  that  she  was  afraid  of  disturbing  the 
patient.  Every  moment  the  wind  seemed  louder,  more 
unlike  wind.  The  house,  the  night,  the  world,  were  one 
great  loneliness  and  terror. 

The  child  drew  her  hand  across  her  forehead. 

"  God !  "  she  moaned.  "  Put  good  stuff  in  me ! 
Make  me  one  of  Thine  own  elect!  And  leave  Grannie 
here  till  Ann  comes  back,  please!  For  Christ's  sake, 
Amen." 

There  seemed  to  be  all  sorts  of  noises  in  the  house 
now,  that  she  could  not  understand.  It  was  absurd  to 
suppose  that  she  and  the  patient  were  the  only  people 


90  WINDYHAUGH. 

in  it.  Every  moment  she  expected  the  door  to  open,  and 
admit — whom? — what?  She  had  never  seen  death.  She 
did  not  know  what  it  meant. 

"  Don't  take  Grannie  yet,  God !  "  she  gasped—"  not 
quite  yet.  Wait  till  Ann  comes  back !  " 

Still  those  awful  noises  in  the  house,  and  worse  far! 
— a  noise  that  seemed  to  be  in  the  room:  a  noise  that 
did  not  come  from  the  bed,  a  noise  that  was  close  to  her, 
and  that  was  unlike  anything  she  had  ever  heard  in  her 
life.  Was  it  the  messengers  of  God? — or  was  it  the 
struggling  of  the  soul  to  be  free? 

Presently  it  ceased ;  and  Grannie  was  breathing  still. 
Thank  God  for  that! 

But  a  moment  later  it  began  again. 

Wilhelmina  sprang  to  her  feet.  The  impulse  to  fly 
was  almost  irresistible;  but  what  might  not  meet  her  on 
the  threshold  ? 

Her  nerves  were  strained  now  to  such  a  point  that  a 
fall  of  dust  and  soot  in  the  chimney  sounded  like  an 
avalanche;  and  all  the  time  that  noise  went  on- — the 
movement  of  something  unseen. 

She  was  praying  still  in  snatches;  but  her  voice  was 
inarticulate,  and  the  sweat  stood  in  great  cold  drops  on 
her  brow.  . 

Then  came  the  crowning  terror  of  all.  The  noise 
deepened  into  a  mighty  rushing  that  must  end  in  some- 
thing, and  a  queer  shapeless  thing  flew  wildly  from  the 
fireplace  through  the  room.  It  swept  over  the  bed,  leav- 
ing a  trail  of  black  across  the  snowy  sheets :  even  as  it 
did  so,  it  lengthened  out — parted  in  two,  and — the  mys- 
tery was  solved. 

Only  two  birds  that  had  taken  refuge  in  the  chim- 
ney, and — after  suffering  an  anguish  perhaps  which 
might  almost  be  compared  to  Wilhelmina's  own — had 
made  their  way  down  into  the  room! 

Relief  and  terror  struggled  for  the  mastery  in  the 
child's  breast.  Birds  were  less  awful  than  messengers  of 
God;  but  even  they  were  uncanny  enough  as  they  flut- 
tered and  circled  about  the  dimly-lighted  room.  Their 
terror  was  infectious,  and  then — were  they  only  birds? 
If  the  Holy  Ghost  had  taken  the  form  of  a  dove,  might 


MEETING  AND  PARTING.  91 

not ?    But  that  train  of  thought  was  too  appalling 

to  be  pursued. 

Summoning  all  her  courage,  Wilhelmina  went  to  the 
door  and  opened  it.  A  moment  later  the  birds  were  out 
in  the  hall. 

"  Well,  did  the  time  seem  long  ?  "  said  Ann's  friendly 
human  voice  a  few  minutes  later. 

"  Kather  long." 

"  What  in  the  world  have  you  done  to  the  bed  ?  " 

"  It  wasn't  me.  It  was  two  birds.  They  came  down 
the  chimney." 

Ann  looked  uneasy.     "  Were  you  feared  ?  " 

"  It  was  queer.  At  first  I  didn't  know  what  they 
were." 

And  that  was  all  the  reference  Wilhelmina  made  to 
the  terrors  she  had  undergone. 

But  next  morning  they  took  her  in  to  see  her  grand- 
mother lying  so  straight  and  stiff  on  such  a  smooth, 
cold  bed! 

Were  they  only  birds  after  all? 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MEETING   AND   PARTING. 

AM  I  to  write  now  of  deeper  depths  than  all?  "Not 
so.  The  next  three  or  four  days  were  crowded  with  in- 
terest and  excitement. 

A  few  minutes  of  genuine  emotion  Wilhelmina  ex- 
perienced as  she  stood  by  that  straight,  still  couch. 
From  the  moment  she  left  the  darkened  room  she  felt 
herself  a  celebrity. 

With  Mrs.  Galbraith's  death,  Windyhaugh  rose  again 
for  a  brief  space  into  the  social  position  it  had  enjoyed 
years  before.  Carriages  stopped  at  the  gate  to  leave 
cards ;  four  telegrams  came  in  before  dinner-time,  strain- 
ing the  ready-money  resources  of  the  household  with  the 
7 


92  WINDYHAUGH. 

porterage  due ;  and  a  number  of  people  of  the  baser  sort, 
who  would  not  have  dreamt  of  disturbing  "  the  family," 
called  to  pick  up  what  gossip  they  could  from  the  serv- 
ants. How  had  it  happened  in  the  end  ?  Was  Mr.  Gal- 
braith  expected  ?  And  what  was  to  be  done  with  Wilhel- 
mina? 

After  a  first  chance  experience,  Wilhelmina  usually 
contrived  to  be  in  the  hall  when  Betsy  answered  the 
door.  It  was  nice  to  feel  herself  surrounded  with  such 
a  halo  of  interest.  Even  the  dressmaker,  who  came  to 
arrange  for  the  household  mourning,  had  much  to  say 
about  the  important  people  whose  gowns  must  "  stand 
over  "  till  Wilhelmina  and  the  servants  were  supplied. 

Everybody  looked  at  the  child  with  so  much  interest 
that  she  took  the  occasion  for  the  first  time  in  her  life 
to  arrange  herself  before  the  mirror  in  order  to  see  just 
what  impression  she  made.  The  glass  suggested  an  im- 
provement on  her  natural  attitude  and  expression,  and 
she  adopted  it  accordingly. 

Poor  Mrs.  Galbraith,  whose  last  hope  had  been  that 
her  death  might  accomplish  what  all  the  efforts  of  her 
life  had  failed  to  achieve. 

By  the  time  Mr.  Galbraith  arrived,  Wilhelmina  was 
looking  almost  sanctimonious.  She  stood  at  the  top  of 
the  stair  looking  down  through  the  banisters  while  the 
driver  carried  in  the  solid  travel-worn  valise  and  dress- 
ing-bag that  would  so  have  delighted  Mademoiselle's 
heart,  had  she  been  there  to  see  them. 

Everybody  in  the  neighbourhood  was  wondering  how 
George  Galbraith  would  face  his  home-coming;  but  in 
truth  his  simple  gravity  and  absence  of  pose  were  very 
disarming. 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  Ann  with  the  air  of  a  com- 
rade in  sorrow,  when  she  opened  the  door. 

"  I  was  expecting  you  last  night,  sir,"  she  said  se- 
verely. 

A  look  of  almost  boyish  appeal  broke  through  the 
gloom  of  his  face.  Just  so  had  she  seen  him  long  years 
before,  when  he  had  got  into  some  scrape  of  which  his 
mother  must  not  know. 

"I  could  not  face  it,  Ann,"  he  said  wearily,  with  a 


MEETING  AND  PARTING.  93 

wan  little  smile.  "  The  place  is  too  full  of  ghosts  for 
me." 

And  Ann,  who  had  been  hardening  her  heart  against 
him  for  years,  forgave  him  straightway  his  many  sins 
against  her  dear  dead  mistress.  She  felt  a  lump  in  her 
throat  as  she  thought  of  the  promise  of  his  youth.  After 
all,  there  was  no  one — no  one — like  Master  George. 

As  for  Betsy,  she  was  simply  bowled  over  at  once. 
Never  in  her  life  had  she  seen  so  handsome  a  gentleman. 
"  You  may  indeed,  Miss,  be  proud  of  your  pa ! " 

Wilhelmina  considered  it  beneath  the  dignity  of  her 
present  position  to  show  excitement  about  anything ;  but 
I  know  not  whether  she  or  her  father  dreaded  the  meet- 
ing more. 

In  a  nightmare  of  inspiration  the  dressmaker  had 
conceived  for  her  a  roomy  black  silk  gown,  heavy  with 
crape ;  and  Ann  had  brushed  her  hair  into  preternatural 
smoothness. 

Mr.  Galbraith  could  not  bring  himself  to  kiss  her, 
but  he  stroked  her  cheek  caressingly  with  his  hand. 

"Well,  little  girl?"  he  said  kindly;  and  then  he 
turned  to  Ann.  "  She  is  her  grandmother's  own  child, 
is  she  not  ?  " 

"  She  is  that,  sir." 

He  looked  at  his  daughter  again,  and  smiled. 

"  Poor  little  Enid !  "  he  murmured  under  his  breath. 

Wilhelmina  did  not  catch  the  words;  but  she  smiled 
back  in  reply. 

The  funeral  was  largely  attended.  There  is  nothing 
like  a  death  for  bridging  over  the  chasm  of  years,  and 
some  men  came  a  long  distance  to  offer  this  last  tribute 
to  the  memory  of  a  good  woman. 

Wilhelmina  was  keenly  disappointed  that  she  was  not 
allowed  to  go.  She  had  listened  to  every  word  the  serv- 
ants said  on  the  subject,  and  would  gladly  have  given 
all  her  handful  of  toys  to  see  the  ceremony ;  but  she  was 
not  even  allowed  to  peep  out  from  under  the  window- 
blind  at  the  plumes  and  the  carriages.  "  It's  a  real 
grand  funeral !  "  said  Betsy  in  a  delighted  whisper. 

Half  an  hour  after  the  procession  had  started,  old 


94  WINDYHAUGH. 

Mr.  Darsie  came  ambling  down  the  road.  He  found 
Betsy  still  standing  at  the  end  of  the  avenue,  gazing  in 
the  direction  the  funeral  had  taken. 

"It's  an  awfu'  loss  this  for  little  Miss  Wilhelmina," 
he  said. 

"It  is  that;  but  it's  proud  she  may  be  to  have  a 
f aither  like  yon !  " 

He  held  up  his  hand.  "  Eh,  you  women !  Ye're  a' 
fitted  wi'  the  ae  last.  A  handsome  face  an'  a  fair  word, 
an'  there  ye  are !  Can  I  see  the  wee  lassie  ?  " 

"  She's  awa'  doun  to  the  beach ;  but  she'll  no'  be 
that  far." 

He  continued  his  walk,  and  before  long  came  upon 
Wilhelmina — so  absorbed  in  what  she  was  doing  that  she 
did  not  notice  his  approach. 

She  had  mapped  out  a  square  of  sand  with  stones,  and 
had  planted  it  here  and  there  with  weeds  and  flowers. 
Beside  her  lay  a  little  box  with  some  short  pieces  of 
white  wool,  and  she  was  busily  engaged  in  digging  a 
deep  square  hole.  This  completed,  she  broke  some  dry 
twigs  into  uneven  lengths,  and  planted  them  round 
about.  Obviously  they  were  meant  to  do  duty  as 
mourners. 

She  opened  the  box,  and  took  a  fond  look  at  the 
broken  doll  inside  it ;  then  closed  it  again  and  proceeded 
to  adjust  the  ends  of  wool.  With  considerable  "  pre- 
viousness "  she  had  already  erected  the  headstone — a 
slab  of  slate  on  which  she  had  laboriously  printed  the 
words — 

ALL  FLES 
H  IS 
GKASS. 

It  reminded  Mr.  Darsie  of  some  very  old  inscriptions 
in  the  churchyard,  and  he  remembered  Mr.  Carmichael's 
remark  about  the  childhood  of  the  race  being  repeated 
in  that  of  the  individual. 

An  involuntary  movement  on  his  part  startled  the 
child.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  blushing  furiously,  and, 
with  one  movement  of  her  foot,  obliterated  the  whole 
scene. 


MEETING  AND  PARTING.  95 

"  I— I  didn't  mean  it !  "  she  stammered,  "  I— I— 

"  Puir  lassie !  Puir  bit  thing !  "  he  said  kindly. 
"  Come  an'  sit  doun  on  the  rocks,  an'  tell  me  aboot 
it." 

Of  course  she  had  little  to  tell.  She  had  scarcely 
seen  her  father,  and  had  no  idea  what  his  plans  might 
be  concerning  her.  Moreover  there  was  a  subtle  barrier 
now  between  her  and  her  old  friend.  She  had  become 
an  important  person  since  she  last  saw  Mr.  Darsie. 

"  I  doubt  they'll  tak'  ye  awa,"  he  said,  "  an'  ye'll  for- 
get the  auld  man.  But  maybe  the  day'll  come  when 
ye'll  tak'  thocht  o'  him  again;  an'  then  I'd  like  ye  to 
mind  that  his  heart  was  fu'  the  day,  though  he  couldna 
find  words." 

Wilhelmina  nodded.  She  was  tracing  a  pattern  in 
the  sand  with  the  toe  of  her  little  shoe. 

He  laughed  awkwardly.  "  It's  no'  likely  that  ye'd  be 
wantiii'  to  write  to  me;  but  ye  ken  fine  how  proud  I'd 
be  to  get  a  letter — if  ye  was  in  ony  trouble  like.  I'm  no' 
a  rich  man,  Miss  Mina;  but  if — but  if — 

Wilhelmina  blushed  painfully.  The  sight  of  her  fa- 
ther and  the  events  of  the  last  few  days  had  raised  her 
social  standard,  and  she  began  to  wish  she  had  never 
accepted  Mr.  Darsie's  sweets.  She  noticed  for  the  first 
time  how  green  and  shiny  his  coat  was. 

"  I  suppose  you  haven't  seen  my  father,  Mr.  Darsie," 
she  said  shyly.  "  He's  a  grand  gentleman." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  he  said,  "  I  ken  fine.  That's  just  what  he 
is — a  grand  gentleman."  He  paused  and  looked  at  her 
with  a  pawky  smile.  "  I  hope  you're  going  to  be  some- 
thing better  than  a  grand  lady." 

Wilhelmina  reflected. 

"  I'd  like  to  be  clever,"  she  said. 

"  Oliver  you'll  be,  nae  doubt,  whether  you  like  it 
or  no'."  He  sighed.  "  I'm  tempted  whiles  to  think  that 
ony  fule  can  be  cliver." 

Any  fool  can  be  clever !  Was  the  old  man  dreaming  ? 
He  looked  so  wise,  though,  as  he  said  it,  that  Wilhel- 
mina laid  the  remark  on  the  shelves  of  her  mind  for 
future  consideration. 

"  Queer  folk  you'll  meet,  an'  queer  things  you'll  see," 


96  WINDYHAUGH. 

he  continued  meditatively;  "but  I  think  you'll  no'  give 
up  the  search  for  God." 

She  did  not  respond,  and  indeed  he  seemed  scarcely 
aware  that  he  had  spoken  aloud.  The  intellectual  or 
spiritual  growth  of  this  child  was  one  of  his  main  inter- 
ests in  life,  and  it  was  a  real  grief  to  him  that  she  must 
go.  His  theological  museum  contained  many  skeletons, 
fossils,  mummies,  microscopic  sections,  and  the  like ;  but 
his  live  specimens  were  few,  and  there  was  not  one  on 
which  he  set  so  high  a  value  as  he  did  on  Wilhelmina. 
He  longed  to  say  some  brief  word  that  would  influence 
her  whole  future  life;  but  the  fewness  of  her  years 
seemed  to  throw  her  out  of  reach  of  his  voice.  One  re- 
mark after  another  he  discarded  as  a  mere  platitude — 
no  more  worth  saying  than  a  thousand  other  things. 

At  last  he  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  sigh. 

"  It's  getting  late,"  he  said  sadly.  "  We'd  best  be  on 
the  road." 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

TRAILS   OF    SMILAX. 

THE  drawing-room  certainly  was  a  very  attractive 
place.  Had  you  seen  it  that  evening,  you  might  have 
been  tempted  to  question  Mr.  Dalrymple's  assertion  that 
the  cook  was  the  one  lynch-pin  of  the  whole  establish- 
ment. 

The  evening  was  cold  for  the  time  of  year,  and  the 
fire — instead  of  sulking  and  shivering  in  a  black  corner, 
as  boarding-house  fires  are  apt  to  do — stretched  out  in- 
viting arms  across  the  friendly  tiles.  The  decoration  of 
the  room  was  on  broad  and  simple  lines,  and,  although 
the  hostess  was  not  responsible  for  this,  having  taken 
the  house  as  it  stood,  she  at  least  had  the  sense  not  to 
counteract  the  restful  effect  by  crowding  walls  and  tables 
with  interesting  trifles  which  her  guests  must  strain 
their  eyes  and  crane  their  necks  to  see. 

It  was  somewhat  past  the  usual  dinner-hour,  but  the 


TRAILS  OF  SMILAX.  97 

ladies  gathered  in  the  room  were  in  high  good-humour. 
Mr.  Galbraith  was  expected  that  evening,  and  Mr.  Gal- 
braith  was  a  guest  worth  waiting  for.  True,  there  were 
other  men  in  the  house — an  old  general,  a  Polish  count, 
a  widowed  city  magnate,  an  unattached  clergyman,  and 
one  or  two  more;  but  none  of  these  gave  the  fillip  to 
social  intercourse  that  was  the  invariable  result  of  a 
visit  from  George  Galbraith.  He  did  not  even  need  to 
talk;  indeed  he  never  talked  much,  though  on  occasion 
he  talked  well.  The  very  presence  of  his  grave  observ- 
ant face  at  the  dinner-table  raised  people  above  their 
ordinary  level.  He  was  worth  exerting  oneself  for.  He 
might  seem  absorbed  in  thought,  yet  women  and  men 
felt  instinctively  that  when  he  was  there  no  dainty  gown, 
no  bright  bon  mot,  was  ever  thrown  away. 

To-night  a  greater  interest  than  usual  attached  to 
his  coming,  for  he  was  bringing  with  him  his  little 
daughter  from  Scotland. 

"  Imagine  George  Galbraith  with  a  daughter ! " 
laughed  old  Lady  Molyneux.  "  I  should  as  soon  have 
pictured  him  with  a  perambulator.  Poor  Lothario !  It 
is  too  bad.  I  wonder  what  she  is  like  ?  " 

"  Oh,  an  uncompromising  little  puritan,  I  believe," 
said  the  hostess  sweetly.  She  leant  forward  to  poke  the 
fire — from  the  top — and  the  lace  fell  back  from  a  pretty 
white  arm  as  she  did  so.  "  Her  father  has  had  nothing 
to  do  with  her,"  she  added  apologetically.  "  She  comes 
from  the  wilds  of  the  country." 

The  note  of  apology  was  a  mistake.  Lady  Molyneux 
was  always  irritated  when  Mrs.  Raleigh  assumed  an  air 
of  proprietorship  in  Mr.  Galbraith.  "  First  catch  your 
hare ! "  she  would  say,  with  a  cynical  smile  on  her  hand- 
some old  face  when  her  hostess's  back  was  turned. 

At  present  she  had  to  content  herself  with  a  meaning 
glance  across  to  Miss  Evelyn — a  beautiful  girl  of  fairly 
good  family  who  had  made  a  sudden  success  on  the 
stage. 

"  The  train  must  be  late,"  said  Mrs.  Raleigh  anxious- 
ly, looking  at  her  jewelled  watch.  "Shall  I  ring? — or 
do  you  mind  giving  them  five  minutes  more  ? " 

"  Oh,  give  them  five  minutes  by  all  means — the  '  Brit- 


98  WINDYHAUGH. 

ish  Matron '  dines  out  to-night,  I  think  ? — if  your  cook 
won't  mind." 

"  I  am  very  angry  with  cook,"  said  the  hostess  irrele- 
vantly. "  You  remember  the  trouble  I  took  some  time 
ago  to  get  her  daughter  into  Whiteley's?  Well,  I  find 
cook  has  been  smuggling  this  young  person's  washing 
in  along  with  mine  every  week.  I  only  found  it  out  be- 
cause to-day  they  omitted  to  sift  out  a  white  petticoat 
much  more  pretentiously  benounced  than  my  own.  I 
thought  the  laundry  people  had  made  a  mistake  till  I 
saw  the  girl's  name  on  it." 

"  The  salmi  last  night  was  a  work  of  art,"  said  the 
old  lady  significantly. 

But  Mrs.  Ealeigh  ignored  this.  "  Of  course,  with  all 
the  house-linen  used,  the  week's  bill  is  enormous,  and  I 
have  always  left  it  to  the  servants  to  check  it.  I  hate 
supervising  every  detail.  I  like  to  do  things  in  a  liberal 
spirit,  and  it  is  disgusting  to  find  oneself  deceived." 

"  Disgusting,"  said  the  actress  with  a  yawn. 

"  By  the  way,  Miss  Evelyn,  I  hope  it  doesn't  incon- 
venience you  to  have  dinner  a  few  minutes  late  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit,  thanks.  I  am  understudying  Mrs.  Car- 
rington.  If  I  get  in  for  the  third  act  to-night  it  will  do. 
She  really  is  superb  in  the  third  act.  Do  you  care  to 
have  a  stall,  Lady  Molyneux  ? " 

"  One  of  these  days,  thank  you,  if  the  piece  is  not  too 
deadly  sentimental." 

"  Oh,  no.  Parts  of  it  I  think  you  would  like.  I 
should  love  to  have  you  come,  for  I  know  you  will  pick 
holes,  and  give  me  a  chance  to  score  when  my  turn 
comes.  I  have  had  heaps  of  tips  from  you."  She  lifted 
eyes  full  of  girlish  flattery.  Lady  Molyneux  was  a 
friend  worth  having. 

The  Boarding-House  as  a  Social  Bridge — or  as  a  Ja- 
cob's Ladder  ? — What  a  fascinating  topic !  What  a  pity 
the  Autocrat  had  raised  the  whole  theme  out  of  reach 
for  ever ! 

A  loud  knock  and  ring  at  the  street  door  put  a  stop 
to  the  conversation. 

"  There  they  are !  "  cried  the  hostess  gaily.  "  I  must 
go  and  welcome  the  little  girl." 


TRAILS  OF  SMILAX.  99 

"  Humph !  "  ejaculated  Lady  Molyneux  when  she  was 
gone.  "  The  '  little  girl '  takes  the  trick,  I  fear.  What 
a  fool  he  is  to  give  that  woman  so  good  a  card!  If 
George  Galbraith  had  been  the  man  I  thought  him,  he 
would  have  suppressed  the — '  little  girl ' !  " 

"  I  lay  two  to  one  on  him  still,"  said  the  actress  lan- 
guidly. "  She  really  is  too  great  a  fool.  How  she  bores 
one  with  her  eternal  talk  of  the  servants,  and  the  money 
she  spends  on  the  establishment ! " 

"  You  may  rest  assured  that  she  doesn't  talk  to  him 
like  that.  One  catches  a  pregnant  glance  now  and  then. 
Softness,  worship,  coddling — that's  her  cue.  It's  apt  to 
pall  after  matrimony,  as  George  Galbraith  must  be 
aware.  But  he  has  had  a  stormy  life,  poor  man,  and 
there  is  no  saying  what  may  happen." 

"  I  think  she  is  too  good  for  him,"  said  a  voice  from 
the  window  recess. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Carlton,  I  had  quite  forgotten  you  were 
there.  How  odd  that  we  didn't  feel  the  leavening  in- 
fluence of  your  presence !  But  I  thought  you  liked  Mr. 
Galbraith?" 

"  I  do.  I  can't  help  it.  But  I  try  not  to  let  my 
tastes  influence  my  judgment." 

"  Now  that  must  be  so  difficult !  But  you  are  always 
admirable." 

"  She  is  a  good,  kind  woman,  if  she  is  a  fool." 

"  Oh,  come !  I  am  glad  you  have  admitted  she  is  a 
fool.  That  was  handsome  of  you.  We  are  all  in  the 
same  boat  now — more  or  less.  No  doubt,  with  your 
habit  of  observation,  you  have  noticed  how  extraordina- 
rily successful  a  fool  can  be  ?  " 

"  If  the  fool  chances  to  be  a  woman ! "  threw  in  the 
actress. 

Mrs.  Carlton  smiled. 

"  I  am  afraid  before  we  go  farther  we  should  have  to 
agree  upon  a  definition  of  success,"  she  said,  with  the 
little  air  of  unconscious  superiority  that  annoyed  Lady 
Molyneux. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Raleigh  returned,  leading  by  the 
hand  a  quaint,  solemn  child  in  a  funereal  frock.  Truly 
father  and  daughter  were  an  oddly  assorted  pair!  Now 


100  WINDYHATJGH. 

that  he  saw  her  in  surroundings  so  different  from  those 
at  Windyhaugh,  George  Galbraith  wondered  that  he 
could  have  allowed  that  frock  to  pass;  but  it  was  too 
late  to  regret  his  carelessness. 

He  was  becomingly  grave,  but  his  manner  was  as 
fascinating  as  ever.  His  momentary  glance  reminded 
Lady  Molyneux  how  refreshing  it  must  be  for  a  man  of 
the  world  to  meet  a  really  clever  woman;  it  left  the 
actress  blushing  with  renewed  pleasure  in  her  Bond 
Street  gown. 

Of  course  everyone  was  oppressively  kind  to  Wilhel- 
mina — even  the  tall  footman,  who  made  her  feel  as  if 
she  were  in  church.  Old  Lady  Molyneux  in  her  usual 
high-handed  fashion  insisted  that  the  child  should  sit 
by  her  at  table.  She  could  not  have  endured,  she  told 
the  actress  afterwards,  to  see  "  that  woman  purring  over 
the  poor  innocent."  Everyone  wanted  to  know  how  the 
little  Scotswoman  had  enjoyed  the  journey,  and  what 
were  her  first  impressions  of  London.  Wilhelmina  said 
"  Yes,"  or  "  'No"  as  the  case  might  be,  blushing  for  the 
baldness  of  the  response,  but  feeling  herself  utterly  un- 
able to  improve  upon  it. 

"  We  tire  you  out  with  our  questions,  don't  we  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Ealeigh  tactfully  at  last.  "  We  will  leave  you 
now  to  eat  your  dinner  in  peace." 

The  conversation  ran  on  lightly  enough  till  the  table 
was  cleared  for  dessert. 

"  Any  fresh  laurels  ?  "  said  Mr.  Galbraith  then  to  the 
actress. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Nothing  to  speak  of.  I  begin 
to  wonder  whether  it  is  worth  all  the  fag." 

"  You  are  hard  to  please." 

"Perhaps  I  am.  Of  course  as  a  girl  one  dreams 
of  the  supreme  moment,  the  crowd,  the  ovation.  Is 
anything  short  of  that  worth  the  years  of  drudg- 
ery?" 

"  Even  that  may  come."  Of  course  he  did  not  in 
the  least  expect  that  it  ever  would. 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Lady  Molyneux  sharply.  "  One 
can  do  good  work,  I  suppose,  and  amuse  folks,  without 
being  a  Siddons  or  a  Ristori.  I'll  wager  it  isn't  the 


TRAILS  OF  SMILAX.  101 

greatest  actors  and  actresses  who  have  been  the  hap- 
piest." 

"  Happiest ! "  repeated  the  girl  contemptuously. 
"  Who  cares  for  happiness?  If  one  could  be  a  Siddons, 
one  would  be  content  to  trample  on  one's  own  broken 
heart — not  to  speak  of  other  people's !  " 

She  glanced  at  Mr.  Galbraith  as  she  spoke ;  but  Mrs. 
Kaleigh  shook  her  head  with  benign  warning. 

'*  'Be  good,  sweet  maid,  and  let  who  will  be  clever,'  " 

she  quoted  sententiously. 

This  was  unendurable.  The  actress  had  always  been 
considered  a  stupid  girl  at  school,  and  the  surprise  of  her 
sudden  success  had  gone  to  her  head. 

She  leaned  forward.  There  was  a  saucy  light  in  her 
beautiful  eyes. 

"So  they  say ! "  she  cried,  with  a  light  little  laugh ; 
"  but  then  you  see,  Mrs.  Raleigh,  it  is  so  much  easier  to 
be  good  than  to  be  clever ! " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  of  appreciation.  George 
Galbraith  nodded  across  to  the  charming  face,  and  Mrs. 
Raleigh  shook  her  head  again  indulgently. 

But  the  words  had  found  an  answering  chord  in 
Wilhelmina,  and  she  had  been  left  so  long  to  her- 
self that  her  crippling  self-consciousness  had  taken 
flight. 

"But  I've  been  told,"  she  said,  meditatively,  "that 
any  fool  can  be  clever." 

A  moment  later  she  could  not  have  believed  in  her 
own  audacity,  had  it  not  been  for  the  extraordinary 
effect  it  produced.  It  was  as  if  a  bomb  had  fallen  in  the 
midst  of  the  company,  and  now  every  eye  was  fixed  upon 
her  as  the  thrower  of  it.  Even  Mr.  Galbraith  gave  his 
daughter  a  quick  glance  that  escaped  everyone  save  Mrs. 
Raleigh. 

Then  a  ripple  of  intense  amusement  ran  down  the 
table.  The  actress  was  forced  to  join  in  it;  but  she 
looked  as  if  someone  had  hissed  in  the  theatre.  Lady 
Molyneux  laughed  till  the  tears  came. 

"  But,  petite,  you  are  adorable !  "  she  cried.  "  Mrs. 
Carlton  and  I  were  feeling  after  that  epigram  an  hour 


102  WINDYHAUGH. 

ago.  You  shall  come  to  my  room  by  and  bye,  and  have 
some  chocolates." 

Oddly  enough,  Wilhelmina  was  destined  to  surpass 
herself  again  before  dinner  was  over. 

Lady  Molyneux  was  relating  some  episodes  of  her 
Parisian  life.  One  or  two  of  these  were  a  trifle  risque, 
and,  with  a  fine  sense  of  literary  fitness,  she  discussed 
them — so  to  speak — in  their  native  tongue.  She  was 
always  glad  of  an  excuse  for  doing  this,  as  it  excluded 
the  less  eligible  members  of  the  party  from  the  conver- 
sation. 

Wilhelmina  was  on  the  alert  at  once.  She  felt  as  if 
Mademoiselle  was  with  her  again,  and,  leaning  forward 
in  her  eagerness,  she  came  in  contact  with  my  lady's 
gesticulating  hand. 

"Pardon,  Madame!"  she  cried  involuntarily,  in  the 
pretty  deprecating  fashion  her  governess  had  taught  her. 

Lady  Molyneux  turned  and  looked  through  her  for- 
midable lorgnette  at  the  small  black  thing  beside  her. 
"Eh  bien!  Tu  as  bien  ecoute  mes  petites  histoires?" 

"  Oui,  Madame,"  said  Wilhelmina,  simply,  "  mais  je 
n'ai  pas  tout  compris." 

This  too,  of  course,  was  a  remark  that  she  had  often 
had  occasion  to  make  to  Mademoiselle,  but  it  fell  so  trip- 
pingly from  her  tongue  that  another  peal  of  delighted 
laughter  rose  from  the  table.  Thanks  to  Mademoiselle's 
habit  of  careful  drilling  and  of  arousing  the  dramatic 
instincts  of  her  pupils,  there  was  a  charm,  a  flexibility, 
about  Wilhelmina's  manner  of  speaking  French — lim- 
ited though  her  knowledge  of  it  was — that  was  entirely 
wanting  in  her  treatment  of  her  mother  tongue.  This 
time  George  Galbraith  did  not  even  lift  his  eyes.  His 
savoir-vivre  did  not  admit  of  his  showing  any  pride  or 
surprise;  but  if  that  clever  little  woman,  Mademoiselle, 
had  seen  his  impassive  face  just  then,  I  think  she  would 
have  felt  herself  repaid  for  all  she  had  undergone. 

Lady  Molyneux  shook  her  finger  at  him.  "  Nice  per- 
son you  are  to  be  the  custodian  of  a  young  girl's  morals. 
Why  didn't  you  tell  me  she  could  speak  French  ? " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  don't  consider  her 
accent  bad  for  a  little  English  girl — do  you  ?  " 


TRAILS  OF  SMILAX.  103 

Wilhelmina  could  not  understand  why  they  all  made 
such  a  fuss  about  her.  This  was  her  first  experience  of 
the  fact  that  some  of  the  greatest  successes  of  our  lives 
are  due  to  what  Fergus  Dalrymple  would  have  called  a 
"  fluke." 

And  the  worst  of  such  successes  is  that  it  is  uncom- 
monly difficult  to  live  up  to  them ! 

"  I  assure  you,  my  friend,  she  is  charming — she  is 
positively  chic !  "  said  Mrs.  Raleigh,  when  Mr.  Galbraith 
had  found  his  way  from  the  smoking-room  to  her  bou- 
doir. "  How  clever  of  her  grandmother  to  have  the  child 
taught  to  speak  French !  " 

"  That  was  scarcely  her  grandmother's  doing,"  said 
George  quietly. 

"  Ah,  I  was  sure  you  had  been  a  better  father  than 
you  led  one  to  suppose !  " 

"  In  any  case  I  am  most  grateful  to  you  for  giving 
the  poor  little  soul  a  home  while  I  look  about  me.  Her 
aunt  happens  to  be  abroad  again,  and  a  homeless  man 
is  sorely  at  a  loss  with  a  child  on  his  hands.  Of  course 
she  must  go  to  school  at  once." 

"  No  hurry  at  all.  It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  me  to  have 
her.  Let  her  see  something  of  this  great  London  after 
her  quiet  country  life." 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  arrange  about  getting  her 
two  simple  little  frocks  ?  Just  give  those  shapeless  sacks 
to  one  of  your  pensioners." 

"  I  will,  with  pleasure.  She  would  look  sweet  in 
white  for  the  evening — with  a  black  sash,  of  course." 

"  You  will  have  to  convince  her  that  by  wearing 
white  she  is  showing  no  disrespect  to  her  grandmother's 
memory." 

"  But  her  grandmother  is  in  heaven !  " 

"  True,"  he  said  gravely,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
has  overlooked  an  important  detail.  "  If  you  remind 
her  of  that  fact,  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  all  right." 

The  white  frock  proved  an  unqualified  success,  and  a 
few  days  later,  when  for  the  first  time  Miss  Evelyn  took 
Mrs.  Carrington's  part,  she  persuaded  Mr.  Galbraith  to 
take  Wilhelmina  to  the  theatre. 


104  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Do,  do !  "  she  entreated.  "  Every  child  I  meet  is 
born  in  the  stalls,  if  not  in  the  green-room.  I  shall  never 
have  such  another  opportunity  of  working  on  an  abso- 
lutely virgin  soil." 

So  they  went,  and  the  effect  on  Wilhelmina  was  over- 
whelming. "  I  fear  it  was  a  great  waste,"  she  said  long 
afterwards  to  Miss  Evelyn.  "  So  much  less  would  have 
been  enough  to  fill  my  tiny  cup.  But  how  that  night 
stands  out  in  my  memory !  " 

She  sat  still  as  a  mouse,  with  all  her  soul  in  her  eyes, 
till  her  "  friend  "  came  on  the  stage ;  then  she  sprang  to 
her  feet  with  outstretched  arms. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Evelyn!"  she  cried  in  tones  of  burning 
admiration. 

A  murmur  of  amusement  ran  through  the  stalls.  The 
young  actress  hesitated,  smiled,  forgot  her  part  for  the 
fraction  of  a  second;  then  bowed  and  recovered  herself 
in  response  to  a  burst  of  applause. 

Mr.  Galbraith  had  no  special  wish  under  the  circum- 
stances to  be  affiche  in  this  fashion;  but,  apart  from 
that,  he  was  quite  man  of  the  world  enough  to  appreciate 
the  situation.  Indeed  he  and  Wilhelmina  were  really 
drawn  to  each  other  more  nearly  that  night  than  they 
had  been  hitherto.  In  the  interval  between  the  first  and 
second  acts  he  ordered  an  ice  for  her  delectation,  and 
later  he  took  her  to  visit  Miss  Evelyn  in  her  room. 

"Isn't  he  perfectly  distracting?"  said  a  young  girl 
who  was  regarding  them  through  her  opera-glass  from 
the  front  of  the  dress-circle.  "  Do  you  suppose  he  is  her 
father?" 

Her  companion  shrugged  a  pair  of  pretty  white  shoul- 
ders. "  Of  course,"  she  sai4  with  a  sigh.  "  I  wonder  if 
the  child  in  the  least  appreciates  her  good  fortune? " 

"  How  should  she  ?  No  doubt  she  thinks  that  fathers 
like  that  are  to  be  gathered  on  every  blackberry  bush." 

"  To  do  her  justice  she  does  look  happy." 

And  in  truth  Wilhelmina  was  transfigured  with  ex- 
citement— lifted  far  out  of  sight  of  Windyhaugh  and  the 
past;  but  before  they  left  the  house  the  reaction  came. 
In  the  hansom  her  father  could  feel  her  trembling  like 
a  leaf. 


TRAILS  OP  SMILAX.  105 

"  Anything  wrong  ?  "  he  asked  surprised. 

"No,"  said  the  child,  and  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
they  drove  on  in  silence. 

Then  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Father ! "  she  said  in  a  tortured  voice.  "  What 
would  Grannie  say?" 

Just  at  that  moment  the  hansom  drove  up  to  the 
house.  Mr.  Galbraith  lifted  his  daughter  out,  paid — 
overpaid — the  man,  and  opened  the  door  with  his  latch- 
key. 

By  some  misunderstanding  the  lamp  in  the  hall  had 
been  extinguished,  and  long  years  afterwards  Wilhel- 
mina  remembered  the  expression  on  her  father's  face  as 
she  saw  it  by  the  light,  first  of  a  match,  and  then  of  two 
flickering  candles. 

"  Your  question,  little  girl,"  he  said  slowly,  "  involves 
a  problem  of  which  you  will  have  to  work  out  the  solu- 
tion for  yourself — as  your  father  had  to  do  before  you." 


PART  II. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  OLD  PROBLEM. 

"  WILHELMINA,"  said  a  gentle  querulous  voice,  "  this  is 
Sarah's  night  out.  Just  go  down  to  the  kitchen  and  see 
that  cook  has  got  Mrs.  Carlton's  tea  all  right.  Ask  her 
to  carry  it  up,  and  you  take  it  in.  Where  is  that  bunch 
of  violets  I  bought  in  the  Grove?  Don't  forget  to  lay 
that  on  the  tray." 

"  All  right,  Miitterchen."  The  answer  came  in  a 
dreamy  voice  from  the  recesses  of  the  shabby  old  arm- 
chair. 

Mrs.  Galbraith  knew  well  what  that  tone  meant. 

"  Do  go,  child,"  she  repeated  irritably.  "  You  worry 
me." 

Wilhelmina  uncurled  herself,  and  threw  down  her 
book  with  a  touch  of  pettishness.  What  did  it  matter 
whether  tea  was  carried  up  two  minutes  earlier  or  later  ? 
She  tossed  back  her  splendid  mane,  and  stretched  her 
lanky  arms  with  a  yawn. 

"  Smooth  your  hair  before  you  go  in.  How  you  do 
stoop,  Mina !  " 

Mrs.  Galbraith's  voice  broke  into  a  note  of  utter  de- 
spondency. It  seemed  hopeless  to  try  to  contend  against 
all  the  minor  difficulties  of  life.  Her  appearance  had 
changed  even  more  than  her  voice  since  we  saw  her  some 
five  or  six  years  ago  as  Mrs.  Raleigh  in  Harley  Street. 
She  looked  flabby  and  elderly  now,  and  at  the  present 
moment  lay  stretched  on  the  couch,  attired  in  a  shabby 
dressing-gown. 
106 


THE  OLD  PROBLEM.  107 

"  Don't  fret,  Miitterchen,"  said  Wilhelmina  cheer- 
fully. She  knew  by  experience  how  infectious  was  this 
mood  of  her  stepmother's,  and  how  fatal  the  first  yield- 
ing to  its  influence.  "  I'll  hold  myself  like  a  grenadier, 
and  as  soon  as  I  have  taken  Mrs.  Carlton  her  tea,  I'll 
see  about  our  own." 

"  You  know  Captain  Stott  and  his  wife  are  coming 
to-morrow.  You  promised  to  see  that  their  rooms  were 
nice." 

"  I  know ;  "  but  Wilhelmina  sighed.  She  too  was  suf- 
fering from  physiological  inertia,  though  she  thought 
it  was  only  bad  temper. 

"  Don't  forget  the  violets ! "  called  Mrs.  Galbraith  as 
she  left  the  room. 

Wilhelmina  made  her  way  to  the  untidy  kitchen.  The 
tea-tray  was  laid,  and  she  surveyed  it  critically  with  her 
head  on  one  side. 

"  The  tray-cloth  isn't  very  clean,  is  it  ? "  she  asked 
deprecatingly.  She  was  dreadfully  afraid  of  hurting 
cook's  feelings.  One  has  to  walk  warily  with  a  servant 
whose  wages  are  in  arrears. 

"  I  am  sure  it  ought  to  be,"  was  the  indignant  re- 
sponse. "  She's  only  had  it  a  week." 

"Well,  I  daresay  it  will  do  for  to-night.  Perhaps 
with  the  violets  there  she  won't  notice." 

Alas!     What  would  Windyhaugh  have  said  to  that? 

Wilhelmina  adjusted  the  penny  nosegay — pathetic 
descendant  of  the  trails  of  smilax! — and  led  the  way 
upstairs. 

Mrs.  Carlton  had  been  a  good  friend  to  the  Gal- 
braiths:  she  could  scarcely  have  told  why,  save  that  as 
a  social  study  they  interested  her.  She  had  not  been 
at  all  surprised  when  the  Harley  Street  experiment  ended 
in  disaster,  and  of  course  she  had  been  the  only  one  of 
the  boarders  there  who  had  cared  to  follow  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith to  a  Bayswater  lodging-house.  Mrs.  Carlton  was 
fortunately  very  indifferent  as  to  what  she  ate,  so  she 
agreed  to  pay  a  round  sum  weekly,  and  left  the  menu 
to  her  landlady's  tender  mercies,  which,  if  not  cruel, 
were  at  least  highly  erratic.  When  funds  were  plenti- 
ful, the  lodger's  table  was  furnished  forth  with  game 
8 


108  WINDYHAUGH. 

or  early  strawberries:  when  funds  were  low,  cold  meat 
hung  on  with  dreary  persistence,  or  she  was  constrained 
to  share  a  rabbit  with  Mrs.  Galbraith  and  Wilhelmina. 
Much  of  her  time  now  was  spent  abroad;  but,  when  she 
was  in  London,  the  Galbraiths'  house  was  her  home. 

"  Don't  hurry  away,"  she  said  to  Wilhelmina  kindly. 
"  What  charming  violets !  Why,  how  flushed  you  are, 
child !  What  have  you  been  doing  ?  " 

"  Beading." 

"Reading  what?" 

"  Oh,  just  a  book  from  the  library." 

"A  nice  one?" 

"  Awfully  nice." 

Farther  enquiries  led  to  some  wholesome  advice ;  but, 
as  the  books  came  from  the  library  primarily  for  the 
benefit  of  Wilhelmina's  stepmother,  who  apparently  had 
read  all  the  classic  novels  at  some  unspecified  period 
in  the  past,  Mrs.  Carlton  had  not  much  hope  that  the 
advice  would  be  followed. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  your  father  lately  ?  "  she  said. 

Wilhelmina  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  know.  I  for- 
get when  the  last  letter  was,"  she  corrected  herself, 
blushing. 

"  You  know  you  don't  get  out  half  enough,"  said  Mrs. 
Carlton  irrelevantly.  "  Put  on  your  hat  now,  and  go  for 
a  smart  trot.  Promise !  " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Wilhelmina  rather  ungraciously ; 
but  it  was  growing  dark  before  she  took  the  latchkey 
and  started  off. 

When  they  first  came  to  Bayswater,  Mrs.  Galbraith 
had  been  very  particular  not  to  let  the  child  go  out 
alone;  but  they  had  so  often  been  left  for  a  day  or  two 
without  servants,  and  necessary  commodities  in  their 
menage  were  so  apt  to  be  found  wanting  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  that  by  degrees  they  had  come  to  ignore  social  con- 
ventions, and  the  supposed  dangers  of  the  streets.  In- 
deed Wilhelmina  never  dreamt  of  fear  or  harm  in  this 
respect,  and,  consequently  perhaps,  was  well  able  to  take 
care  of  herself.  A  chance  accost  roused  in  her,  not  ter- 
ror, but  simple  natural  indignation. 

She  strolled  through  Westbourne  Grove,  gazing  into 


THE  OLD  PROBLEM.  109 

the  shop-windows,  and  thinking  of  all  the  beautiful 
things  she  would  buy  if  she  had  money  to  spend.  One 
article  of  dress  she  chose  after  another,  till  in  imagina- 
tion she  saw  herself  a  very  different  being  from  the 
shabby  overgrown  scrimply-dressed  child  whose  eyes  were 
fixed  so  longingly  on  Whiteley's  resplendent  windows. 
But  she  could  not  be  happy  alone;  and  fancy  had  long 
since  limned  a  wonderful  Fairy  godmother,  who  rambled 
with  her  through  the  land  of  dreams.  What  exquisite 
cakes  they  bought!  what  chocolate!  what  fruit!  Per- 
haps the  fruit  suggested  that  pumpkin  of  old,  for  now 
they  must  drive  away,  away — whither? — to  the  moun- 
tains of  the  moon  ? — or  only  to  the  Prince's  ball  ?  In  her 
anxiety  to  decide  on  a  fitting  chariot,  Wilhelmina  laid 
herself  open  to  repeated  offers  of  "  Cab,  Miss  ?  "  "  Han- 
som, lydy?" 

Dreaming  thus,  she  wandered  on  among  tall  uniform 
houses  with  scraps  of  garden  in  front.  She  no  longer 
needed  even  the  stimulus  of  the  shop-windows  to  fire  her 
imagination.  Rising  above  mere  earthly  joys,  it  pro- 
ceeded to  paint  the  lineaments,  the  mind,  the  soul,  of 
the  wonderful  friend,  till  at  last  she  stood  there  com- 
plete, just  the  height  of  the  dreamer's  ideal.  It  was  a 
curious  form  of  protestant — or  pagan — Madonna-wor- 
ship, perched  on  a  mossy  ledge  half-way  up  the  bleak  crag 
of  Wilhelmina's  Calvinism. 

Suddenly  the  dream  came  to  an  end. 

From  the  open  door  of  a  chapel  a  glow  of  light  was 
thrown  upon  the  street.  Large  placards  stood  about,  an- 
nouncing a  series  of  evangelistic  meetings,  which  all 
were  cordially  invited  to  attend. 

Wilhelmina  stood  still. 

Her  religious  life  had  fallen  into  abeyance  of  late. 
She  went  to  church  regularly  on  Sunday,  and  at  inter- 
vals the  old  anxiety  returned,  and  she  strained  every 
nerve  to  achieve  conversion.  In  this  she  was  no  longer 
actuated  merely  by  the  dread  of  judgment  to  come,  but 
also  by  a  real  desire  for  the  Personal  Communion  of 
which  others  spoke  in  such  glowing  terms.  And  yet 
she  was  beginning  to  despair.  She  had  striven  so  long, 
and  she  could  not  believe.  It  seemed  to  her  untrained 


HO  WINDYHAUGH. 

mind  that  she  was  asked  to  believe  a  thing  which  had 
not  fully  happened  until  she  did  believe  it;  and,  al- 
though she  never  doubted  for  a  moment  that  the  fault 
lay  in  herself,  the  difficulty  hitherto  had  proved  an  in- 
superable one. 

"  Coming  in  ? "  said  a  boy's  pleasant  voice.  The 
speaker  had  run  up  behind  her. 

Wilhelmina  shook  her  head. 

"  I  think  you  had  better.  I  found  the  Saviour  here 
last  night." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  Wilhelmina  looked  at  him  with  hungry 
interest. 

/"  Yes.    Have  you  found  Him  ? " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Then  come  in!" 

"  I  can't.    My — people  are  expecting  me." 

"  But  won't  they  think  you  worth  waiting  for  if  you 
go  back  to  them  a  Christian  girl  ? " 

She  could  not  honestly  say  that  this  would  make 
much  difference  to  "  them " ;  but  she  was  well  aware 
that  it  would  make  a  great  difference  to  herself.  Her 
face  showed  her  indecision. 

"  Come  in,  come  in !  "  he  said  again.  "  We're  very 
late ; "  and,  with  all  the  zeal  of  the  new  convert,  he 
dragged  her,  half  yielding,  into  the  chapel. 

"Come,  ye  who  have  sought  Him  twenty  years!" 
cried  the  preacher's  thrilling  voice. 

"  That's  me ! "  thought  Wilhelmina,  and  she  sank 
into  a  seat. 

The  preacher  was  a  man  of  wide  reputation,  and  the 
place  was  crowded;  but  the  people  had  made  room  in  a 
moment.  They  were  worked  up  to  the  state  in  which  a 
sacrifice  of  physical  comfort  was  almost  a  relief. 

The  atmosphere  was  hot  and  oppressive.  Self-con- 
sciousness was  dying  fast.  One  or  two  women  had  re- 
moved their  hats,  and  were  pushing  back  dank  hair  from 
their  moist  foreheads.  "  Come  in,  Lord  Jesus ! "  cried 
a  man  near  the  door.  Obviously  the  preacher  had  "  the 
root  of  the  matter"  in  him. 

Ah,  yes,  had  he  not  indeed  the  root  of  the  matter  in 
him?  He  worked  on  the  terrors  of  his  audience,  no 


THE  OLD   PROBLEM.  HI 

doubt;  he  lent  overwhelming  importance  to  his  own 
formula,  his  own  shibboleth;  but  was  there  not  in  his 
teaching  that  note  of  true  detachment  that  has  charac- 
terized all  real  religions  from  the  beginning  of  time? 

"  Which  has  not  taught  weak  wills  how  much  they  can  ? 

Which  has  not  fall'n  on  the  dry  heart  like  rain? 
Which  has  not  cried  to  sunk,  self- weary  man  : 
Thou  must  be  born  again  !  " 

Wilhelmina  sat  quivering  like  a  reed  in  response  to 
the  passionate  appeal,  to  the  mesmerism  of  this  man's 
personality.  It  seemed  but  a  few  minutes  before  he 
resumed  his  seat. 

A  number  of  clergymen  were  on  the  platform.  One 
of  these  spoke  a  few  words,  but  Wilhelmina  scarcely 
heard  what  he  said.  The  moment  the  service  was  over, 
she  rose  to  go. 

"  You'll  come  down  to  the  Inquiry  Room,"  said  the 
boy  who  had  brought  her  in. 

"No,  no,"  she  cried  terrified. 

But  fate  was  too  strong  for  her.  The  preacher  was 
making  his  way  down  the  chapel.  His  perceptions  were 
extraordinarily  keen.  He  ignored  the  people  who  looked 
at  him  with  adoring  eyes,  the  people  who  would  fain 
shake  hands;  but  he  did  not  pass  small,  shrinking,  in- 
significant Wilhelmina. 

"  You  a  Christian  ?  "  he  said  cheerily,  sending  a  queer 
thrill  through  her  body  as  his  hand  fell  heavily  on  her 
shoulder.  "No?  Mr.  Jenkins!" 

In  a  moment  she  was  handed  over  to  a  satellite  and 
ushered  down  below. 

Some  time  later,  when  Wilhelmina  read  Romola,  she 
knew  what  it  meant  to  the  stately  heroine  to  be  handed 
over  by  Savonarola  to  another  confessor.  She  was  de- 
livered to  a  formal,  rather  fussy,  grey-haired  man. 

Inquirers  were  so  many  that  night  that  the  large 
band  of  satellites  was  overworked,  and  Wilhelmina  was 
classed  with  a  stout  elderly  woman  from  the  country, 
though  an  outsider  might  have  been  tempted  to  think 
that  the  spiritual  conditions  of  two  people  so  different 
could  not  have  much  in  common. 


112  WINDYHAUGH. 

The  old  man  gave  her  a  Testament,  expressing  sur- 
prise that  she  had  not  brought  one  with  her,  and  re- 
quested them  both  to  read  over  a  very  long  verse  in  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles:  in  after  years  Wilhelmina  could 
not  even  remember  which  it  was.  "  If  you  believe  that," 
he  said,  "you  are  saved." 

He  read  it  over  himself,  dwelling  on  this  point  and 
that.  Wilhelmina  was  so  confused  and  exhausted  that, 
familiar  though  she  was  with  Holy  Writ,  she  could  not 
even  take  in  what  the  text  meant;  and  the  feeling  that 
this  important  gentleman  was  waiting  there  till  she  "  be- 
lieved," was  quite  sufficient  to  reduce  her  to  the  last 
stage  of  imbecility. 

No,  not  the  last.    That  was  still  to  come. 

"  I  see  it  all ! "  cried  the  elderly  woman  suddenly. 
"  Praise  God !  Praise  God !  Tm  saved! " 

And  then  indeed  Wilhelmina  reached  the  "  last 
stage." 

The  old  man  now  directed  his  attention  to  her  ex- 
clusively. 

"  I  like  to  keep  people  to  one  verse,"  he  said,  with  an 
air  of  resigning  himself  to  unmerited  failure ;  "  but  we'll 
try  a  text  from  St.  John." 

Here  at  least  Wilhelmina  might  have  hoped  to  find 
herself  at  home;  but  no.  The  familiar  quotation  rang 
in  her  ears  like  a  melody  of  which  one  strives  in  vain 
to  remember  the  words.  Her  mind  was  an  absolute 
blank.  Would  she  have  to  sit  there  all  night? 

"  Don't  you  believe  now?"  asked  the  old  man,  and  to 
her  his  voice  sounded  weary  and  reproachful. 

Wilhelmina  was  desperate. 

"  I  don't  know.  I — I  think  so,"  she  said  doubtfully. 
"  I'd  like  to  go  home  and  think  about  it." 

The  night  was  growing  late  and  other  inquirers  were 
waiting,  so  he  gave  her  a  little  blue  book  and  allowed 
her  to  go. 

Then  indeed  a  text  of  Scripture  rose  with  full  force 
and  abounding  significance  to  her  mind — 

"  Our  soul  is  escaped  as  a  bird  out  of  the  snare  of 
the  fowlers;  the  snare  is  broken  and  we  are  escaped." 

But  the  relief  was  only  for  the  moment.     She  could 


MR.  CARMICHAEL.  113 

not  sleep  that  night.  Throughout  the  long  hours  she 
lay  tossing  from  side  to  side,  hopelessly  praying,  and 
wondering  what  she  had  done  that  the  light  should  be 
denied  to  her — only  to  her! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MR.   CARMICHAEL. 

"  WHAT  in  the  world  made  you  so  late  last  night  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Galbraith  at  breakfast  next  morning.  "  I  had 
a  headache  and  went  to  bed  early." 

"  I  went  to  a  meeting,"  Wilhelmina  answered  in  a 
lifeless  voice.  "  Did  you  want  me  ?  " 

"  I  was  dreadfully  low-spirited  and  nervous.  I  really 
don't  know  how  we  are  to  face  the  winter  with  its  taxes 
and  its  bills.  Mrs.  Carlton  goes  to  Algiers  very  soon. 
We  shall  have  the  Stotts  of  course,  but  what  they  pay 
won't  much  more  than  meet  current  expenses,  and  there 
are  some  heavy  bills  standing.  I  do  wish  we  could  hear 
from  your  father." 

Wilhelmina  rested  her  chin  on  the  palms  of  her  two 
hands,  and  looked  across  at  her  stepmother. 

"  Miitterchen,"  she  said — it  was  Mr.  Galbraith  who 
had  chosen  the  name  by  which  she  should  call  her  new 
mother — "  Miitterchen,  if  we  are  to  know  any  peace  in 
life,  we  must  trust  to  ourselves.  We  don't  know  when 
we  may  hear  from  him." 

A  great  tear  rolled  down  Mrs.  Galbraith's  poor  flabby 
face.  "  Yet  last  time,  just  when  we  were  in  despair,  he 
came  and  stayed  with  us,  and  left  fifty  pounds  behind 
him.  It  was  such  a  help !  " 

Wilhelmina  looked  doubtful.  She  remembered  how 
extravagantly  the  lodgers  had  fared  on  that  occasion — 
how  smart  a  bonnet  Mrs.  Galbraith  had  purchased  in 
Regent  Street,  and  she  wondered  whether  the  fifty 
pounds  had  been  so  great  a  help  in  the  end. 

Mrs.  Galbraith  was  crying  quietly. 


WINDYHAUGH. 


"  And  last  night,"  she  said  in  a  quavering  voice, 
"  cook  was  positively  insolent  to  me  —  positively  inso- 
lent!" 

Wilhelmina  turned  white.  This  was  serious.  With 
all  her  faults,  cook  could  not  be  easily  replaced. 

"  We  must  pay  her  wages,"  she  said. 

"  And  where  is  the  money  to  come  from  ?  —  unless 
your  father  sends  it.  There  are  far  more  pressing  things 
than  cook's  wages." 

A  great  wave  of  crimson  rushed  over  the  young  girl's 
face.  She  was  having  a  hard  struggle  with  herself. 

"  There  is  my  money,"  she  said  ungraciously.  "  It 
will  be  coming  in  very  soon  now." 

Mrs.  Galbraith  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"  You  poor  child  !  "  she  said,  "  and  you  need  a  new 
frock  so  badly  !  But  that  you  shall  have  in  any  case. 
You  do  grow  so  fast  !  —  And  then  there  were  those  music 
lessons  you  were  to  have." 

Wilhelmina  laughed  rather  bitterly.  She  was  begin- 
ning to  look  upon  "  those  music  lessons  "  as  a  Will  o' 
the  Wisp.  "  Oh,  they  can  wait  another  three  months  !  " 
she  said.  "  I  ought  to  be  paying  you  for  my  board." 

"  Nonsense  !  You  are  my  right  hand.  What  should 
I  do  without  my  dear  daughter  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  looked  perplexed.  She  was  her  step- 
mother's right  hand  without  doubt;  but  was  there  any 
use  in  being  right  hand  to  so  muddled  a  head?  She 
longed  at  times  really  to  take  the  reins  of  the  estab- 
lishment herself;  but  it  was  so  encumbered  with  debts, 
with  the  incompetence  of  servants,  and  with  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith's  fitful  extravagance,  that  the  task  would  have 
been  a  hopeless  one.  She  would  have  grudged  her  quar- 
terly pittance  less  if  it  had  made  any  real  difference  in 
the  sea  of  their  embarrassments. 

"  If  only  we  could  keep  the  house  full  !  "  continued 
Mrs.  Galbraith.  "  There  is  Mrs.  Brown  over  the  way  — 
quite  a  common  woman,  and  never  decently  dressed! 
I  don't  believe  she  spends  half  as  much  on  her  house- 
keeping as  I  do,  and  she  has  none  of  the  nice  little 
etceteras  that  count  for  so  much;  yet  she  always  has 
plenty  of  lodgers.  I  wish  we  knew  what  she  charges 


MR.   CARMICHAEL.  115 

for  her  rooms.  No  doubt,  with  just  one  little  slavey, 
she  can  do  the  thing  more  cheaply." 

"  She  does  the  cooking  herself." 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  we  ought  to  have  good  cooking  for 
the  wages  I  give;  and  think  of  my  beautiful  linen  and 
dinner  ware ! " 

"  If  we  could  afford  it,  I  would  take  cooking-lessons. 
They  would  be  much  more  useful  than  music." 

"You  poor  child!  As  if  I  should  allow  such  a 
thing  at  your  age!  Here  is  a  note  from  Mrs.  Stott, 
telling  me  what  things  to  get  in.  You  will  go  along 
to  the  Grove  presently  and  order  them,  won't  you  ? " 

At  this  moment  the  housemaid  opened  the  door.  "  If 
you  please,  ma'am,"  she  said  sulkily,  "  there  has  been  a 
great  fall  of  soot  in  Mrs.  Carlton's  sitting-room.  It'll 
take  me  the  best  part  of  the  morning  to  clean  it  up." 

"  Oh,  dear !  and  I  meant  to  have  had  the  chimney- 
sweeps this  very  day !  " 

Wilhelmina  rose  from  the  table.  "  Mrs.  Carlton  must 
sit  in  the  Stott's  room,"  she  said.  "  They  won't  be  here 
till  afternoon.  I  will  go  and  see  if  I  can  find  a  sweep 
who  will  come  at  once." 

Ten  minutes  later,  when  Mrs.  Carlton  was  deep  in 
her  Daily  Telegraph,  a  visitor  was  ushered  unannounced 
into  the  room.  He  wore  clerical  dress,  and  his  face 
would  have  been  sufficient  introduction  to  any  woman. 

"Mrs.  Galbraith?"  he  said  doubtfully. 

"  No.  Mrs.  Carlton.  I  lodge  here.  Did  you  want  to 
see  Mrs.  Galbraith?" 

"Miss  Galbraith.  My  name  is  Carmichael.  They 
told  me  she  would  be  in  soon,  so  I  said  I  would  wait. 
I  have  called  outrageously  early;  but  a  Scotch  minister 
in  London  is  fain  to  map  out  every  minute  of  his 
time." 

"  Are  you  a  friend  of  Wilhelmina's  ?  " 

"  A  friend  of  her  childhood." 

"  Then,"  said  Mrs.  Carlton  in  her  deliberate  im- 
pulsive fashion,  "  I  am  glad  she  is  out.  You  will  for- 
give my  saying  that  I  have  wondered  sometimes  what 
the  friends  of  her  childhood  are  about." 

He  drew  down  his  brows  in  the  old  characteristic 


116  WINDYHAUGH. 

way.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  we  have  scarcely  heard  a  word 
about  her.  Her  father's  world  never  came  much  in  con- 
tact with  her  grandmother's  world." 

Mrs.  Carlton  laughed.  "  Her  father's  world  does  not 
come  much  in  contact  with  her  stepmother's  world,"  she 
said  caustically.  "You  heard,  of  course,  that  he  had 
married  a  lady  who  kept  a  boarding-house  ? " 

"  Yes.    We  were  much  surprised." 

"  You  would  not  have  been  surprised  if  you  had  seen 
the  steps  by  which  it  came  about.  She  was  very  ami- 
able, and  worshipped  him  without  criticism.  I  don't 
think  he  ever  quite  meant  to  marry  her,  but  her  pretty 
house  was  always  there  with  its  welcome.  He  was  going 
downhill,  and,  although  no  doubt  there  were  lots  of  good 
houses  where  he  would  still  have  received  a  welcome, 
he  was  morbidly  sensitive  about  laying  himself  open  to 
a  snub.  At  Harley  Street  no  one  was  responsible,  and 
we  all  received  him  gladly." 

She  paused,  but  Mr.  Carmichael  did  not  speak.  He 
looked  the  thing  he  was — an  admirable  listener. 

Mrs.  Carlton  sighed.  "  As  for  her,  there  is  no  deny- 
ing that  she  belongs  to  the  class  of  women  who  are  the 
despair  of  those  who  try  to  help  their  sex.  She  was  at 
the  mercy  of  her  servants,  and,  if  she  had  only  realized 
the  fact,  all  might  have  been  well.  But  she  wouldn't 
realize  it.  Those  of  us  who  know  life,  and  who  can't 
afford  the  services  of  a  chef,  understand  that  we  must 
choose  between  two  alternatives — good  cooking  on  the 
one  hand,  sobriety  or  good  temper,  or  both,  on  the  other. 
Personally  I  prefer  the  second  alternative;  I  think  good 
cooking  may  be  bought  too  dear:  boarders — who  don't 
come  into  personal  contact  with  the  cook — are  apt  to 
prefer  the  first.  Mrs.  Galbraith  was  a  born  optimist 
who  persistently  believed  in  the  possibility  of  combining 
the  two — and  so  the  establishment  came  to  grief." 

Mr.  Carmichael  smiled. 

"  You  can  imagine  the  rest.  It  is  only  by  slow  de- 
grees that  we  have  sunk  to  our  present  level." 

He  smiled  again — deprecatingly  this  time — as  he 
looked  out  on  the  sunny  street  with  its  tall  cream-col- 
oured houses. 


MR.   CARMICHAEL.  H7 


"  Pardon  me,"  he  said.  "  You  forget  that  I  am  only 
a  country  cousin." 

"  Or  that  we  are  on  different  sides  of  the  footlights  ? 
You  must  take  my  word  for  it  then,  Mr.  Carmichael," 
she  continued  hurriedly,  as  if  realizing  for  the  first  time 
how  much  she  had  to  say,  "  that  many  people  in  the 
slums  suffer  less  from  the  evils  of  poverty  than  do  the 
tenants  of  this  pleasant  house.  Wilhelmina  is  going  to 
waste.  She  is  a  dear  good  girl,  and  it  is  often  she  who 
keeps  the  house  together;  but  the  supervision  she  is 
under — if  supervision  it  can  be  called — is  of  the  most 
undisciplined  kind,  and  in  all  her  spare  moments  she 
is  reading  arrant  rubbish  from  a  circulating  library  in 
the  Grove.  She  has  had  no  education;  and,  although 
she  often  works  hard — it  is  such  frightfully  misdirected 
energy !  It  all  just  tends  to  keep  things  shuffling  along. 
She  isn't  learning  to  do  any  one  thing  well" 

Here  Mr.  Carmichael  interposed  his  first  question,  an 
irrelevant  one  as  it  chanced. 

"  May  I  ask  what  keeps  you  here  ? " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Oh,  I  am  all  right," 
she  said  lightly.  "  Mrs.  Galbraith  is  generous  as  a  land- 
lady. Besides "  she  flushed  slightly — "  in  the  old 

days  in  Harley  Street  I  was  in  temporary  difficulties 
of  a  very  painful  kind,  and  she  rose  to  the  occasion 
as  only  a  gentlewoman  would  have  done.  I  take  care 
that  people  don't  suffer  for  that  kind  of  thing,  and,  as 
it  happens,  I  like  Mrs.  Galbraith.  She  certainly  has  the 
qualites  de  ses  defauts" 

"  She  is  kind  to  Wilhelmina  then?  " 

"  As  she  would  be  to  her  own  daughter." 

"  Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  the  child  doesn't 
go  to  school  ?  " 

Mrs.  Carlton's  lip  curled.  "  For  a  year  or  two  after 
her  grandmother's  death  she  went  to  some  ridiculous 
school  down  in  the  country;  but  even  that  farce  soon 
came  to  an  end.  Since  then  she  has  had  a  stray  term 
here  and  a  stray  term  there;  but  it  has  all  amounted 
to  nothing.  She  has  a  great  idea  of  being  clever  and 
methodical.  Periodically  she  maps  out  her  time,  and 
begins  to  work  at  her  old  lesson-books;  but  she  is  too 


118  WINDYHAUGH. 

heavily  handicapped.  Energy  is  not  unlimited  at  her 
age,  and  what  she  has  is  already  overtaxed." 

"  But  what  is  Mr.  Galbraith  about  ?  Any  court  would 
compel  him  to  support  his  wife." 

"  If  she  was  the  sort  of  woman  to  appeal  to  any  court. 
He  does  send  her  money  occasionally,  and  indeed  I  have 
even  seen  him  here  once  or  twice,  but  of  course  we  can't 
expect  much  of  his  society.  Have  you  met  him  ? " 

"  No.  I  was  away  from  home  at  the  time  of  his 
mother's  funeral." 

She  leaned  forward.  "You  see,  Mr.  Carmichael, 
George  Galbraith  is  a  picturesque  figure,  and  his  sense 
of  fitness  is  such  that  he  must  have  a  harmonious  back- 
ground. To  do  him  justice,  he  can  make  most  back- 
grounds appear  harmonious;  but  a  Bayswater  lodging- 
house  is  one  of  the  few  that  are,  on  the  face  of  it,  im- 
possible. I  can't  fancy  him  at  fault  in  an  imperial  court, 
in  the  wilds  of  Arabia,  or  indeed  in  a  lunatic  asylum; 

but  Bayswater !  It  won't  do.  We  all  recognize  the 

fact." 

"  But  what  does  he  live  on  himself  ? " 

"  The  gaming-tables,  some  say.  I  believe  his  first 
wife  left  a  little  money;  and  I  suspect  him  of  writing 
occasional  man-of-the-world  articles  for  the  smart  pa- 
pers. I  don't  know,  but  I  fancy  sometimes  I  have  recog- 
nized his  hand."  She  sighed.  "  I  suppose  Wilhelmina 
is  quite  dependent  on  her  stepmother." 

"  Practically,  but  not  quite.  Her  grandmother  had 
only  a  life-rent  of  the  family  property;  but,  with  the 
exception  of  a  small  legacy  to  an  old  servant,  all  her  sav- 
ings went  to  Wilhelmina.  She  has  an  annuity  of  about 
forty  pounds  a  year." 

"Paid  through  her  father?" 

"  No.  Old  Mrs.  Galbraith  took  care  of  that.  It  is 
paid  straight  to  herself  by  the  family  man  of  business." 

Mrs.  Carlton  rose  to  her  feet.  She  saw  Wilhelmina 
coming  down  the  street. 

"  Then  in  Heaven's  name,  Mr.  Carmichael,"  she  said, 
"  arrange  that  the  child  be  taken  right  out  of  this  life. 
Forty  pounds  wouldn't  do  it ;  but  sixty  would  with  care. 
Surely  her  relatives  will  raise  the  other  twenty  for  a 


MR.  CARMICHAEL.  H9 

few  years.  She  is  worth  it.  When  I  think  how  that 
quaint  sturdy  Scotch  thing  came  in  upon  our  frivolous 

scandal-mongering  boarding-house  life It  was  like 

a  mental  vision  of  breezy  moorland  through  the  fumes  of 
a  music-hall ! " 

After  hearing  all  this,  Mr.  Carmichael  was  agreeably 
disappointed  when,  himself  unseen,  he  watched  Wilhel- 
mina  come  bounding  up  the  steps,  casting  a  glance  over 
her  shoulder  at  two  very  black  chimney-sweeps  in  her 
rear.  She  was  enjoying  a  rebound  of  vitality  after  the 
sorrows  of  the  night.  A  touch  of  frost  in  the  sunny 
morning  air  had  brought  a  glow  of  colour  to  her  cheeks, 
and  the  scrimpness  of  her  dress  adapted  itself  rather 
pleasantly  to  her  rapid  movements,  for  there  was  not  yet 
a  suspicion  of  coming  womanhood  in  her  lanky  boyish 
figure.  Moreover — and  few  things  lend  a  more  becom- 
ing light  to  the  human  countenance  than  this — she  felt 
herself  at  the  moment  an  exceedingly  competent  young 
person.  Had  she  not  convinced  the  grocer  that  he  was 
twopence  out  in  his  reckoning?  And  could  any  one  else 
have  produced  the  chimney-sweeps  with  so  little  loss  of 
time? 

"  They  happened  to  come  into  the  shop  while  I  was 
there,"  the  minister  heard  her  say,  laughing,  "  and  I 
thought  I  had  better  just  take  them  in  tow  at  once." 

It  was  fortunate  that  Mr.  Carmichael  got  this  pleas- 
ant little  glimpse  of  her,  for  in  his  presence  she  was 
painfully  shy  and  embarrassed.  Her  social  life  for  years 
had  been  almost  a  negligible  quantity:  it  had  consisted 
of  more  or  less  unpleasant  relations  with  servants,  lodg- 
ers, and  shopkeepers.  Mrs.  Galbraith  had  been  con- 
strained for  a  time  to  keep  aloof  from  her  own  immedi- 
ate circle,  having  already  borrowed  money  from  all  who 
could  be  induced  to  lend  it ;  and,  although  in  the  Harley 
Street  days  she  had  been  extremely  generous,  keeping 
open  house  even  for  some  who  had  little  claim  on 
her  hospitality,  they  had  shown  no  desire  to  follow  her 
down  into  the  valley  of  poverty  and  disappointment. 

The  minister  was  hampered  too  in  the  interview  by 
the  thought  of  all  the  questions  Mr.  Darsie  would  have 
to  ask  when  he  got  back  to  Queensmains. 


120  WINDYHAUGH. 

There  was  no  doubt,  however,  about  Wilhelmina's 
pleasure  at  the  sight  of  him. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  Windyhaugh,  I  see." 

Forgotten  Windyhaugh! 

"And  I  assure  you  Windyhaugh  and  its  surround- 
ings have  not  forgotten  you.  Do  you  know,  I  never  see 
Mr.  Darsie  but  he  talks  about  you  ? " 

"  I  hope  he  is  quite  well." 

This  was  frigid  enough  certainly;  but  it  sounded  so 
like  what  other  people  would  have  said  under  the  cir- 
cumstances that  Wilhelmina  was  quite  proud  of  it. 

Mr.  Carmichael  smiled.  "  Oh,  yes,  he  is  quite  well ; 
but  he  doesn't  grow  any  younger,  and  he  is  very  lonely. 
It  would  be  a  real  kindness  if  you  would  write  him  a 
nice  chatty  letter  sometimes." 

Wilhelmina  looked  distressed.  "  I  am  afraid  there 
is  nothing  to  write  about,"  she  said  shyly. 

"Nothing  to  write  about!  Why,  tell  him  about  the 
books  you  read,  and  the  places  you  see — Westminster 
Abbey,  the  Tower,  St.  Paul's.  You  have  no  idea  how 
interesting  all  that  is  to  us  country-folks." 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "  I  haven't  seen  any  of 
those  places,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Carmichael  looked  incredulous.  This  was  a  hard 
saying  to  the  provincial  mind.  He  was  learning  now 
for  the  first  time,  what  most  men  know  so  well,  that 
Windyhaugh  itself  is  not  farther  from  London  than  are 
some  of  the  suburbs  thereof. 

"  In  any  case,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "  there  remain  the 
books;  and  that  would  please  him  most  of  all." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  answer.  Had  she  lived  with 
grown  people  of  average  intellectual  interests,  or  with 
children  of  her  own  age,  she  would  have  long  since 
learned  to  give  a  glib  opinion  of  a  book.  As  it  was, 
the  suggestion  that  she  should  do  so  seemed  to  her  posi- 
tively terrifying.  She  knew  when  she  disliked  a  book — 
a  rare  occurrence — and  when  it  was  "  awfully  nice,"  but, 
with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  one  can't  make  a  letter 
out  of  that. 

She  looked  so  unhappy  that  Mr.  Carmichael  hastened 
to  change  the  subject. 


MR.   CARMICHAEL.  121 

"  And  how  are  the  lessons  getting  on  ?  " 

But  this  was  going  from  bad  to  worse.  She  coloured 
painfully.  "  I  haven't  been  going  to  school — just  lately," 
she  added,  loyally. 

"  That  seems  a  pity.    Wouldn't  you  like  to?" 

Like  to?    Like  to  be  clever?    What  a  question! 

"  I — I  don't  think  my  stepmother  could  spare  me," 
she  faltered ;  "  and — and  I'm  going  to  have  music  les- 
sons— next  term." 

Next  term !  As  she  had  once  said  to  Mr.  Darsie,  she 
felt  herself  "  smiling  inside  "  as  she  uttered  the  words, 
and  the  smile  was  not  a  very  sunny  one. 

Mr.  Carmichael  drew  a  note-book  from  his  pocket, 
and  proceeded  to  modify  his  complicated  programme. 

"  Suppose  you  come  with  me  to  Westminster  Abbey 
this  afternoon?"  he  said.  "I  should  enjoy  having  a 
companion." 

Her  face  lighted  up,  but  she  shook  her  head. 

"  There  are  some  new  people  coming,"  she  said ;  "  I 
must  be  here." 

"  But  everything  is  ready,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  nodded,  with  the  first  gleam  of  humour  she  had 
shown.  "  So  you  would  think ;  but  they  always  want 
something  that  we  just  haven't  got." 

Mr.  Carmichael  felt  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  his  own 
incompetence  as  he  ran  down  the  steps.  He  was  aware 
that  he  had  not  said  a  single  word  that  could  be  of  use 
to  the  child.  We  are  all  so  apt  to  forget  that  it  is  not 
mainly  the  spoken  word  that  counts. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  passed  the  door  of  the  chapel 
where  the  evangelistic  services  were  being  held,  and  he 
made  a  note  of  the  place,  as  he  meant  to  be  present  that 
evening.  The  revivalist  was  said  to  be  a  man  of  great 
power. 

"  I  wonder  whether  I  should  have  advised  Wilhelmina 
to  go,"  he  mused.  On  the  whole  he  decided  that  he  had 
done  better  to  refrain.  His  breezy  nature  shrank  in- 
stinctively from  morbid  emotionalism  in  religion. 

But  the  fascination  of  the  preacher  was  on  Wilhel- 
mina, and  evening  found  her  once  more  in  the  chapel. 
This  time  she  went  early  to  secure  a  back  seat.  Noth- 


122  WINDYHAUGH. 

ing  would  have  induced  her  to  face  the  Inquiry  Room 
again. 

Two  young  men  beside  her  had  much  to  say  of  their 
gratitude  to  the  preacher.  "  I  have  found  him  even  more 
helpful  since  I  was  converted,"  said  one.  "  He  gives  one 
so  many  straight  tips  for  the  higher  life." 

Wilhelmina  was  shocked  at  the  irreverence  of  the 
remark;  but  the  preacher,  had  he  heard  it,  would  have 
felt  differently.  Indeed  he  might  not  improbably  have 
made  use  of  the  words  as  the  title  of  a  discourse  or 
pamphlet.  Nature  does  sometimes  confer  even  on  the 
truly  devout  a  taste  for  racy  expression. 

At  last  the  door  opened  and  the  revivalist  entered, 
accompanied  by  a  party  of  ministers  of  all  denomina- 
tions. Wilhelmina's  heart  leaped  to  see  Mr.  Carmichael 
among  the  number.  In  truth  he  had  not  meant  to  take 
so  prominent  a  place;  but  he  had  arrived  to  find  the 
hall  overcrowded,  and  the  doorkeeper  had  directed  him 
to  the  platform. 

The  address  was  full  of  mesmeric  power.  It  was 
mainly  adapted  perhaps  to  the  stony  ground,  but  even 
the  good  and  receptive  soil  showed  a  marvellous  willing- 
ness to  let  itself  be  harrowed. 

When  the  speaker  resumed  his  seat,  an  opportunity 
was  given  for  others  to  say  a  few  words.  There  was  a 
pause,  and  then  Mr.  Carmichael  rose.  The  self-restraint 
of  his  manner  was  in  striking  contrast  to  the  methods 
of  the  evangelist. 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  said,  "  we  have  all  listened  with  the 
deepest  interest  to  our  brother's  powerful  and  most  mov- 
ing address.  One  is  diffident  about  adding  a  word  to 
such  an  appeal,  and  yet,  as  I  have  sat  here,  looking 
round  upon  so  many  anxious  faces,  I  have  wondered 
whether  some  were  not  distressing  themselves  unneces- 
sarily. 

"It  is  not  so  much  what  a  man  Relieves  that  saves 
him :  it  is  his  faith.  Are  not  some  of  you  torturing  your- 
selves about  your  inability  to  go  through  an  intellectual 
process,  your  inability  to  grasp  an  intellectual  proposi- 
tion? If  so,  you  are  mistaking  the  gate.  It  is  strait,  I 
know;  but  the  straitness  is  not  for  the  intellect;  it  is 


ROUNDS  BY  WHICH  WE  MAY  ASCEND.      123 

for  the  soul:  the  narrowness  is  not  for  the  mind;  but 
for  the  heart  and  conduct.  He  who  would  walk  with 
Christ  must  simply  want  to  be  good  more  than  he  wants 
to  be  rich  or  famous  or  popular  or  clever.  Think  no 
more  of  your  mind:  let  your  mind  have  a  rest:  does 
your  heart  run  to  meet  the  Lord  Jesus? 

"  '  Who  fathoms  the  eternal  thought? 

Who  talks  of  scheme  and  plan  ? 
The  Lord  is  God !    He  needeth  not 
The  poor  device  of  man.' 

"  Can  you  honestly  say,  *  Lord,  I  am  a  sinner  and  a 
very  stupid  sinner;  I  don't  know  much  about  doctrine, 
but  I  do  honestly  want  to  throw  in  my  lot  with  Thee. 
I  want  to  be  good!  I  know  I  shall  sin  again,  and  yet 
again;  but,  with  Thy  help,  I  will  not  be  beaten  by  my 
sins?' 

"  If  you  can  say  all  that,  don't  try  to  say  any  more ; 
the  more  will  come.  You  have  wasted  time  enough. 
Gird  up  your  loins,  and  ask  what  you  can  be  about. 

"If  you  can  say  all  that — not  only  in  the  heat  and 
excitement  and  fear  of  the  moment,  but  as  the  deliber- 
ate aspiration  of  your  saner  hours — I  hold  out  to  you 
the  right  hand  of  fellowship  in  the  name  of  Christ !  " 

Who  shall  reckon  the  force  of  the  unconventional 
word — the  word  that  dispels  the  vapours  and  glooms,  not 
because  it  is  learned  or  clever — not  even  because  of  its 
inherent  truth,  but  just  because  it  rises  molten  hot  from 
a  human  heart? 

Mr.  Carmichael  had  got  into  touch  with  Wilhelmina 
at  last. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

ROUNDS   BY   WHICH   WE   MAY   ASCEND. 

ON  any  theory  of  the  religious  life — nay,   on  any 
theory  of  the  physical  life — on  the  sheer  frigid  doctrine 
that  pleasure  is  the  absence  of  pain — I  feel  that  I  ought 
to  write  of  raptures  for  Wilhelmina  now. 
9 


124  WINDYHAUGH. 

But  the  simple  truth  is  that  no  raptures  occurred. 

"  The  spirit  bloweth  and  is  still, 
In  mystery  our  soul  abides." 

And  apparently  in  her  case  the  time  for  rapture  was 
not  yet.  Almost  in  spite  of  her  own  will,  something 
within  her  perceived  the  reasonableness  of  Mr.  Car- 
michael's  test,  and  that  was  all.  Relief  she  experienced 
certainly,  and  an  ability  to  sleep  at  night,  even  when 
she  was  tired  or  excited,  without  the  haunting  fear  of 
waking  up  in  hell;  but  of  all  the  wondrous  joys  she 
had  expected,  she  tasted  almost  none. 

In  spite  of  her  relief  she  could  not  shake  off  a  vague 
feeling  that  she  had  been  defrauded.  Through  all  the 
disappointments  and  hardships  of  her  life  she  had  looked 
forward  to  her  conversion  as  some  young  men  look  for- 
ward to  the  time  when  they  shall  be  really  in  love;  and 
now  apparently  the  long-dreamt-of  moment  had  come 
and  gone  without  even  giving  her  a  chance  to  cry,  "  Stay, 
thou  art  fair !  "  She  felt — though  of  course  she  did  not 
so  express  the  feeling — that,  from  an  artistic  point  of 
view,  her  conversion  had  fallen  flat,  that  it  had  come 
about  with  an  ease — I  might  almost  say  a  cheapness — 
that  was  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  agonies  of  the  pre- 
ceding years. 

She  was  as  one  who,  after  knocking  vainly  at  a  door, 
has  turned  his  back,  and,  leaning  against  the  gate-post, 
has  gazed  long  and  dreamily  at  the  prospect  before  his 
eyes.  At  length  he  turns  again  to  the  door,  and  behold 
it  stands  open  wide!  When  did  it  open? — and  why,  if 
not  in  answer  to  his  knocks  ?  Is  it  possible  that  he  might 
have  entered  long  ago? 

Moreover,  now  that  the  door  is  open,  it  reveals  no 
celestial  vision — only  the  first  few  steps  of  an  uphill 
path. 

Wilhelmina  did  not  shirk  the  deduction.  She  was 
saved — if  indeed  she  was  saved? — and  she  must  now 
begin  to  work  out  her  own  salvation.  There  was  a  little 
— just  a  little — inspiration  in  this  thought,  to  atone  for 
all  the  joys  she  had  missed. 

And  having  received  spiritual  sustenance  in  a  some- 


ROUNDS  BY  WHICH  WE  MAY  ASCEND.      125 

what  indefinite  form,  she  must  needs  make  haste  to  cast 
it  into  an  evangelical  mould.  A  subtle  form  of  tempta- 
tion is  that — "  Im  Ganzen — haltet  euch  an  Worte! "  She 
attended  more  of  the  services,  and  adapted  her  feelings 
as  far  as  she  could  to  what  she  ought  to  have  felt.  When 
she  dreamt  of  saving  other  souls — as  some  told  her  she 
must  strive  to  do  at  once — she  adopted,  not  Mr.  Car- 
michael's  words,  but  those  of  the  evangelist. 

There  was  much  truth  in  the  words  of  him  who  said, 
Give  me  the  first  five  years  of  a  child's  life,  and  I  will 
give  you  the  rest. 

It  may  be  that  the  increasing  worries  of  her  daily 
life  had  something  to  do  with  her  lack  of  the  spiritual 
joy  to  which  she  felt  herself  entitled.  Hardship  and 
deprivation  have  often  proved  "  rounds  by  which  we 
may  ascend,"  but  carking  care,  recurrent  dread  of  im- 
portunate creditors,  of  summonses  and  the  like — it  is 
not  at  the  beginning  of  the  spiritual  life  that  one  can 
rise  by  these ! 

"  Wilhelmina,"  said  her  stepmother  one  morning, 
"just  go  up,  will  you,  and  listen  to  Mrs.  Stott's  views 
on  the  subject  of  lunch  and  dinner?  Tell  her  I  am  not 
well." 

Wilhelmina  glanced  rather  enviously  out  of  the  win- 
dow at  a  crossing-sweeper  over  the  way.  What  a  luxury 
it  must  be  to  have  nothing  more  complicated  to  do  than 
to  sweep  and  gather  pennies,  buy  a  twopenny  pie  when 
funds  allowed,  and  tumble  into  one's  own  quiet  little 
corner  at  night ! 

She  went  upstairs  with  slow  unwilling  feet,  but  there 
was  just  a  touch  of  graceful  dignity  in  her  manner  as 
she  said,  "Mrs.  Galbraith  is  not  well.  She  asked  me 
to  come  instead  of  her." 

"Well,  you  look  a  purposelike  young  person,"  said 
the  lodger  brusquely,  and  she  entered  somewhat  length- 
ily into  her  "  views  "  for  the  day.  "  We  arc  going  out 
this  afternoon,  so  we  shan't  want  dinner  till  half -past 
seven;  and  say  to  cook  that  the  fried  potatoes  were 
greasy  last  time.  Tell  her  Captain  Stott  can't  touch 
them  unless  they  are  perfectly  dry  and  crisp !  " 

"  Perhaps  she'd  like  to  come  down  and  fry  them  her- 


126  WINDYHAUGH. 

self,"  was  cook's  rejoinder  to  an  euphuistic  paraphrase 
of  this  message.  "  Half -past  seven !  I'd  like  to  know 
when  the  washing-up  will  be  done.  You  can  tell  your 
ma  that  she  had  better  be  looking  out  for  somebody  else 
to  cook  for  these  here  Stotts !  " 

The  familiarity  of  the  last  sentence  cut  Wilhelmina 
to  the  quick;  but  she  could  not  afford  to  show  her  feel- 
ings. 

"I'll  come  and  help  you  with  the  washing-up,"  she 
said  gently. 

But  it  was  not  in  her  power  to  make  things  go 
smoothly  that  evening.  The  Stotts  did  not  come  in  till 
after  eight,  and  the  dinner  cook  sent  up  then  was  even 
less  inviting  than  it  need  have  been.  Moreover,  bad  as 
it  was,  it  failed  to  give  the  woman's  ill  temper  sufficient 
vent,  and  Wilhelmina  had  much  to  bear  and  still  more 
to  ignore  during  the  process  of  washing-up. 

"  My  little  helper !  "  said  Mrs.  Galbraith  kindly  when 
she  returned  to  the  sitting-room.  "  Are  you  going  to 
make  the  toast  again  to-morrow  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"Nobody  makes  such  delicious  toast  as  you.  And, 
while  you  are  downstairs,  I  wish  you  would  give  an  eye 
to  Sarah  as  she  fills  the  coal-scuttles  for  the  sitting- 
rooms.  Make  her  put  some  small  stuff  into  each,  and 
see  that  she  doesn't  fill  them  too  full.  She  just  wants 
to  save  herself  the  trouble  of  going  up  for  them  again. 
She  never  thinks  of  my  poor  purse." 

It  was  a  good  deal  to  ask  of  so  sensitive  a  child,  and 
many  a  heartfelt  prayer  went  up  over  the  filling  of  those 
coal-scuttles;  but  assuredly  the  answer  to  those  prayers 
had  no  immediate  bearing  on  the  matter  in  hand.  Wil- 
helmina never  acquired  the  gift — I  had  almost  said  the 
knack — of  gaining  by  prayer  the  petty  temporal  things 
she  longed  for. 

"  Mrs.  Stott  says  they  must  make  a  change,"  said 
Mrs.  Galbraith  a  few  days  later. 

Wilhelmina's  heart  sank.  Mrs.  Carlton  had  just 
started  for  Algiers. 

"  What  is  wrong  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  everything ;  meals  unpunctual,  cooking  unre- 


ROUNDS  BY  WHICH  WE  MAY  ASCEND.      127 

liable,  coal-scuttles  not  full  enough.  I  told  her  I  always 
impressed  upon  the  servants  that  they  must  fill  the  scut- 
tles well;  but  that  they  found  them  easier  to  carry  when 
they  were  not  too  full." 

"  But  had  you  told  the  servants  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  no ;  I  don't  suppose  I  had ;  but  one  must  say 
something.  I  don't  think  you  in  the  least  realize  how 
difficult  it  is  to  make  ends  meet — or  rather  to  keep  them 
from  gaping  quite  too  wide!  I  said  I  would  speak 
seriously  to  cook,  and  Mrs.  Stott  has  promised  to  try  us 
a  little  longer.  She  is  not  a  gentlewoman.  It  is  dread- 
ful to  be  at  the  beck  and  call  of  these  people  with  their 
bourgeois  notions  of  comfort." 

Wilhelmina  felt  an  odd  sense  of  physical  chill.  She 
had  often  heard  her  stepmother  lie  before  now;  but  she 
had  never  heard  her  recount  a  lie  with  such  absolute 
sangfroid  and  self-complacency.  At  Windyhaugh  the 
child  had  been  taught  that  affliction  was  the  forcing- 
house  for  the  Christian  virtues;  but  assuredly  her  step- 
mother was  growing  more  hardened  and  callous  about 
many  things.  Was  it  possible  that  they  were  going 
downhill  together? 

"  My  money  comes  to-morrow,"  she  said.  "  Cook  will 
do  better  when  she  gets  her  wages  paid.  I  don't  want  a 
new  dress,  Miitterchen.  Let  us  pay  them  both  up  to 
date,  and  start  fresh.  It  will  put  them  in  such  a  good 
humour." 

The  money  duly  arrived,  and  by  the  same  post  came 
a  ten-pound  note  from  an  uncle  of  Mrs.  Galbraith's. 
Enclosed  with  this  was  a  letter  intimating  that  no  more 
need  be  expected  from  the  same  source;  but  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith  declined  to  be  depressed  by  the  warning.  "I 
knew  the  tide  would  turn ! "  she  cried  delightedly ;  and 
it  was  all  Wilhelmina  could  do  to  prevent  her  plunging 
into  divers  small  extravagances  to  celebrate  the  turning. 

The  servants  seemed  pleasantly  surprised  when  they 
received  their  wages,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  day  every- 
thing went  as  smoothly  as  possible. 

Next  morning  Wilhelmina  was  awakened  by  the  vio- 
lent ringing  of  bells,  and  a  minute  later  Mrs.  Galbraith 
came  into  her  room. 


128  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Just  run  down,  dear,  and  see  what  the  servants  are 
about,"  she  said.  "It  is  eight  o'clock,  and  no  one  is 
astir.  Mrs.  Stott  is  ringing  for  her  hot  water." 

Wilhelmina's  teeth  chattered  as  she  slipped  on  the 
roomy  dressing-gown  that  had  formerly  been  the  prop- 
erty of  her  stepmother.  The  dim  light  of  the  winter 
morning  revealed  the  hopeless  confusion  of  the  kitchen, 
the  dreary  lifeless  ashes  of  the  fire. 

"  Cook  ? "  said  Wilhelmina  in  a  startled  voice. 

There  was  no  answer,  and  she  made  her  way  to  their 
room. 

The  beds  had  been  slept  in,  and  the  bed-clothes  were 
all  in  confusion,  but  not  a  scrap  of  the  servants'  prop- 
erty remained — save  indeed  two  poor  little  coloured  re- 
ligious cards  which  Wilhelmina  had  given  them,  out  of 
her  poverty,  on  Christmas  day.  These  lay  trampled  un- 
derfoot on  the  dirty  floor. 

For  a  few  seconds  the  child  gave  way  to  the  feeling 
of  heart-sickness  that  rushed  over  her.  Then  she  opened 
the  window,  and  the  raw  morning  air  seemed  to  give 
her  fresh  life. 

With  a  bound  she  was  back  in  the  kitchen,  raking 
the  lifeless  embers  from  the  grate.  She  could  not  stop 
to  do  it  thoroughly:  in  a  minute  she  had  seized  paper 
and  sticks  with  a  reckless  hand,  and  had  set  them  alight. 
A  few  little  bits  of  coal  completed  the  pyre,  arid  then 
she  ran  upstairs. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Galbraith,  "I  hope  they  are 
ashamed  of  themselves." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Wilhelmina  dryly.    "  They're  gone." 

She  could  not  resist  this  bit  of  dramatic  effect,  cruel 
though  it  was. 

It  was  a  full  minute  before  Mrs.  Galbraith  found 
voice.  Her  face  was  very  white,  and  for  the  first  time 
Wilhelmina  saw  her  look  positively  vindictive. 

"  This"  she  said  at  last  in  tones  of  suppressed  fury, 
"  comes  of  paying  their  wages !  " 

Wilhelmina  nodded.  She  was  hurrying  on  her  clothes 
with  all  the  speed  she  could  muster.  "I  know,"  she 
said  stoically;  "but  there  is  no  use  fretting,  Miitter- 
chen.  I  have  lighted  the  fire.  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Stott  she 


BOUNDS  BY  WHICH  WE  MAY  ASCEND.      129 

shall  have  her  hot  water  in  a  few  minutes,  and  then  I'll 
get  breakfast  as  fast  as  ever  I  can.  I  won't  tell  her 
what  has  happened  till  afterwards." 

"  I  don't  see  that  we  need  take  her  into  our  confi- 
dence." 

"I  thought  of  that,"  said  Wilhelmina  sadly,  as  she 
drew  the  comb  through  her  rebellious  hair,  "  but  she  is 
bound  to  know  sooner  or  later." 

"But,  child,  I  can't  believe  it.  There  must  surely 
be  some  mistake." 

"  So  I  thought.  But  I  don't  know  where  the  mis- 
take can  be." 

Now  that  Wilhelmina  had  merged  her  feelings  in 
action,  she  was  as  happy  as  a  child  need  be — happier 
certainly  than  she  had  been  for  a  long  time.  She  knew 
she  could  surprise  the  whole  household  by  her  compe- 
tency, and  it  really  was  much  easier  to  do  the  necessary 
work  for  the  moment  herself  than  to  be  the  central 
point  of  a  triangle  composed  of  mistress,  lodgers,  and 
servants.  She  flew  around  like  a  bird;  and,  although 
the  servants  had  levied  an  extortionate  toll  on  the  cold 
bacon,  she  contrived  to  send  up  a  creditable  breakfast 
in  a  very  short  space  of  time.  It  was  quite  true,  as  Mrs. 
Carlton  had  said,  that  she  had  learned  to  do  nothing 
well;  but  in  a  great  emergency  people  are  not  hyper- 
critical, and  she  seemed  to  do  things  superlatively  well. 

For  the  first  time  her  heart  was  in  a  glow  of  religious 
feeling,  and,  childlike,  she  fancied  that  the  glow  would 
last  for  ever.  The  spirit  in  which  she  washed  the  dishes 
used  by  the  servants  for  their  last  hurried  meal  was 
surely  just  that  in  which  the  saints  of  old  had  tended 
the  sores  of  the  afflicted,  and  washed  the  feet  of  beggars. 
Natural  disgust  was  burned  out  of  her  like  alloy  from 
gold  in  the  furnace.  Surely  she  had  hit  the  focus  of 
the  divine  rays  at  last. 

It  was  well  perhaps  that  this  mood  should  be  sharply 
tested  at  once,  for  the  test  never  tarries  long. 

"How  bright  you  look!"  said  Mrs.  Galbraith  envi- 
ously as  they  sat  at  breakfast.  "  I  can't  tell  you  how  this 
kind  of  thing  upsets  me.  Look  how  my  hand  shakes." 

"Poor  little  Miitterchen!"    Wilhelmina  thought  of 


130  WINDYHAUGH. 

course  that  religion  steadied  her  own  nerves,  but  for- 
tunately she  had  grace  given  her  not  to  say  so.  Youth 
cannot  be  expected  to  realize  the  difference  that  sheer 
youth  makes.  Even  in  a  sad  childhood  there  is  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  freshness,  of  originality,  about  the  blows 
and  rebuffs  of  life.  Each  one  gives  us  a  new  chance 
of  earning  kudos,  of  developing  our  moral  thews  and 
sinews;  but,  when  we  grow  old,  hardship  and  suffering 
wear  a  familiar  face.  We  have  passed  that  way  so  often 
before ! 

"  I  do  feel  so  poorly,"  continued  Mrs.  Galbraith.  "  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  go  out  in  the  rain  to  the  registry 
office.  Do  you  think  you  could  go  for  once?  You  are 
growing  to  be  such  a  comfort  to  me !  " 

Wilhelmina  looked  down  at  her  short  shabby  frock. 
"  You  look  so  different  from  me,  Miitterchen,"  she  said, 
with  a  pitiful  little  shake  in  her  voice.  "  When  you  wear 
your  best  things  you  look  like  a  duchess  still.  I  am 
afraid  they  won't  pay  any  attention  to  poor  me." 

"Nonsense!  Mrs.  Stott  has  just  been  saying  what 
a  capable  person  you  are." 

"  Very  well ;  I'll  go,"  said  Wilhelmina ;  and  she  may 
be  pardoned  if  she  had  a  mental  picture  of  herself  laying 
a  costly  sacrifice  "  on  the  altar." 

"  Get  them  to  come  to-day  if  possible.  Say  I  will 
write  for  their  characters  later.  Mind  you  don't  say  any- 
thing about  its  being  a  lodging-house ;  and  if  the  woman 
at  the  corner  has  cheap  chrysanthemums,  bring  in  a  few. 
I  will  send  them  up  to  Mrs.  Stott." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  think  chrysanthemums  would 
have  much  effect  on  Mrs.  Stott,  but  she  had  another 
battle  to  fight  at  present. 

"  Miitterchen,"  she  said,  "  I  must  say  we  keep  lodg- 
ers. We  don't  want  the  new  servants  to  leave  the  day 
they  arrive,  as  Matilda  did." 

"  Matilda  was  a  goose." 

"And  if  they  begin  by  despising  us " 

Mrs.  Galbraith  drew  herself  up.  "  Despising  us !  " 
she  said.  "You  forget  yourself,  Wilhelmina.  If  you 
tell  them  this  is  a  lodging-house,  they  will  think  of  a 
common  place  like  Mrs.  Brown's  over  the  way.  Whereas 


BOUNDS  BY  WHICH  WE  MAY  ASCEND. 


if  they  come  and  see  for  themselves  that  it  is  a  lady's 
house,  and  that  things  are  done  properly  —  the  chances 
are  that  they  will  be  only  too  glad  to  stay." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  answer.  Indeed  there  was  noth- 
ing more  to  be  said.  She  no  longer  had  a  mental  pic- 
ture of  a  sacrifice  laid  on  the  altar;  but  she  set  her 
teeth  and  determined  to  "  worry  through." 

The  rain  poured  in  torrents  as  she  trudged  along, 
wondering  how  she  was  to  satisfy  both  her  stepmother 
and  her  own  conscience.  Fortunately  —  as  is  so  often 
the  case  when  we  distress  ourselves  most  —  the  difficulty 
existed  in  prospect  only.  "  You  keep  lodgers,  don't 
you  ?  "  said  the  manager  briskly,  when  Wilhelmina  stated 
her  requirements,  and  no  one  could  find  fault  with  her 
for  replying,  "  One  or  two." 

But  she  suffered  many  humiliations  in  the  course 
of  the  morning.  She  was  no  match  for  shrewd  Lon- 
don servants,  and  she  felt  their  contempt  even  when 
it  was  not  expressed.  Only  one  was  rude  enough  to  say, 
"  But  you  are  not  the  young  lydy,  are  you  ?  "  Yet  even 
that  was  better  than  the  patronizing  kindness  with 
which  most  of  them  treated  her.  At  last  she  got  told 
of  a  substantial  "general"  who  promised  to  come  the 
next  day,  and  then  she  was  fain  to  run  home  in  humble 
triumph. 

"  Only  a  general  !  "  said  Mrs.  Galbraith  resignedly. 
"  Well,  she  will  at  least  tide  us  over  till  we  can  look 
round." 

But  this  was  hoping  too  much. 

Late  in  the  evening  a  dirty  blotted  postcard  was 
handed  in  — 

"  on  thinking  it  over  I  don't  see  my  way  to  take  in 
hand  with  your  situation." 

Wilhelmina  looked  at  the  card  fixedly  for  some  time. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  at  last,  "  why  she  took  the  trou- 
ble to  write." 


132  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE   INGLE   NEUK. 

THE  grocer  looked  at  the  clock. 

It  was  near  closing  time,  and  the  shop  was  full  of 
people.  "  Hurry  up,  Jim,"  he  whispered  uneasily.  "  I 
want  to  get  through." 

The  grocer  was  a  famous  gossip.  I  am  not  sure  that 
the  word  does  full  justice  to  the  human  and  philosophic 
interest  he  took  in  his  fellow-creatures ;  but  I  know  that 
if  you  wanted  local  information,  you  bethought  your- 
self forthwith  of  the  co-existing  want  of  soap  or  sugar, 
and,  if  you  had  a  valuable  secret  to  dispose  of,  you  were 
in  no  doubt  at  all  as  to  your  market. 

Nor  was  the  dusty  little  shop  a  meeting-ground  for 
the  lower  classes  exclusively.  The  days  had  not  yet 
come  when  the  gentry  ordered  down  a  box  from  the 
stores.  "Darsie's  mixture" — at  four  shillings  a  pound 
— was  equal  in  quality  to  any  tea  you  could  get  in  Edin- 
burgh: Darsie's  whisky  was  simply  first-rate:  and  he 
even  had  a  brand  of  tobacco  that  would  pass  muster  in 
an  emergency. 

So  my  lady's  carriage  stopped  at  his  door  just  often 
enough  to  keep  him  in  touch  with  high  life;  and  the 
neighbouring  lairds,  when  they  found  themselves  in 
Queensmains  with  a  little  odd  time  on  their  hands, 
were  well  aware  that  they  might  spend  it  worse  than 
in  a  chat  with  the  grocer.  His  range  of  subjects  was 
wonderful.  With  the  one  important  exception  of  horse- 
flesh— on  which,  by  the  way,  he  rather  fancied  himself — 
there  were  few  topics  on  which  he  was  not  an  authority. 
He  was  well  read  in  politics,  conscientiously  squeez- 
ing the  last  drop  of  nourishment  out  of  his  daily  paper; 
he  could  tell  you  who  was  who  with  a  nicety  that  was 
beyond  praise;  and  an  Oxford  undergraduate,  who 
chanced  to  be  in  those  parts,  had  been  heard  to  say 
that  his  knowledge  of  books  fairly  took  one's  breath 
away. 


THE  INGLE  NEUK.  133 

Poor  Mr.  Darsie!  What  it  was  to  him  to  get  hold 
of  a  college  man !  It  is  pathetic  to  think  that  he  should 
not  have  had  his  fill  of  their  society,  for  after  all,  they 
are  so  common!  But  I  fear  they  voted  him  rather  a 
bore  with  his  eager  questions.  When  you  had  come 
straight  from  a  jolly  sociable  athletic  life — a  life  just 
sprinkled  over  perhaps  with  a  little  Latin  or  Mathe- 
matics— it  was  rather  disconcerting  to  be  asked,  What 
influence  in  your  opinion  was  being  exercised  on  the 
thought  of  the  English  Universities  by  the  works  of  the 
late  Mr.  Robertson  of  Brighton  ?  The  chances  were  that 
you  had  never  heard  of  the  man,  and  your  surprise  was 
great  when  you  accidentally  discovered  next  term  that 
his  "  works  "  really  were  in  the  University  library,  and 
that  some  of  the  fellows  had  read  them! 

Heigho!  One  hopes  there  is  a  big  English  Uni- 
versity in  heaven  for  all  the  good  folks  who  ought  to 
have  been  in  one  on  earth.  • 

But,  failing  the  college  man,  some  interest  or  amuse- 
ment might  be  derived  from  everybody.  Even  the  poor 
old  washerwoman  who  came  in  on  Saturday  night  for 
her  pinch  of  tea  and  tobacco  was  something  more  than 
a  mere  supernumerary  on  the  stage  where  history  was 
daily  being  made — for  the  benefit  of  the  queer  little 
grocer. 

To-night,  however,  his  puppets  did  not  interest  him, 
and  he  made  haste  to  "  put  them  past,"  as  he  would  have 
expressed  it,  in  their  drawer.  "  Up  wi'  the  shutters,  noo, 
Jim !  "  he  said  briskly,  "  and  I'll  lock  the  door  ahint 

ye." 

He  hastened  upstairs,  changed  his  greasy  old  coat  for 
one  of  tolerable  respectability,  stirred  the  fire,  set  the 
spirit-stand  within  reach,  and  composed  himself  to  wait. 
The  book  he  had  on  hand  at  this  time  was  Martineau's 
Types  of  Ethical  Theory;  but  he  could  not  fix  his  mind 
on  that  now. 

He  had  not  waited  long  when  Mr.  Carmichael's  char- 
acteristic knock  was  heard  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,  sir,  come  in !  I'm  sure  ye're  heartily  wel- 
come." 

The  minister  laughed.    "  ~No  need  to  tell  me  that  to- 


134:  WINDYHAUGH. 

night,  Mr.  Darsie,"  he  said.  "'How  beautiful  upon 
the  mountains ' !  " 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  anxiously.  "You'll  ha' 
seen  her?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  seen  her." 

Mr.  Darsie's  face  brightened.  "  And  how  did  you 
find  the  mighty  city  ?  " 

Mr.  Carmichael  laughed  again.  "  Oh,  we'll  take 
Wilhelmina  first,"  he  said.  "  I  think  she  is  looking  well 
— in  fact  she  attracts  me  much  more  than  she  did  as  a 
child.  She  is  well  grown ; "  and  he  drew  a  bright  pic- 
ture of  the  young  girl  as  he  had  seen  her  first,  "  like  a 
freshly  painted  tug  with  a  couple  of  coal  barges  in  tow." 

The  grocer  nodded  repeatedly  like  a  mandarin. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  he  said.  "  I  was  sure  she'd  be  tall.  They're 
fine  folk  to  look  at  on  both  sides  o'  the  house.  She'll 
promise  to  be  bonny  ?  " 

"  I  think  so :  she  is  thin  and  lanky,  but  her  features 
are  good." 

"  An'  she'll  be  making  gran'  progress  at  the  schule  ? 
I  mind  o'  your  telling  me  what  a  fine  scholar  yon  Made- 
moiselle found  her." 

Down  came  the  heavy  brows. 

"  Mr.  Darsie,"  said  the  minister,  "  till  this  moment  I 
meant  to  answer  your  questions  with  discrimination,  but 
now  I  think  I  will  tell  you  everything  exactly  as  it  hap- 
pened, and  we'll  talk  it  over  together.  Wilhelmina  was 
out  when  I  called,  and  I  had  the  advantage  of  a  chat 
with  a  lodger  of  theirs — an  extraordinarily  sensible  and 
competent  woman — so  sensible,  indeed,  that  one  was  dis- 
tinctively on  one's  guard  against  what  she  said." 

He  related  the  whole  story  very  simply. 

"  Did  you  see  Mistress  Galbraith  ?  "  asked  the  grocer. 

"  She  came  in  for  a  few  minutes  before  I  left — told 
me  Wilhelmina  was  a  great  comfort  to  her." 

The  grocer  sat  gazing  into  the  fire  for  a  time;  then 
he  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  full  into  the  minister's  face. 

"  Damn  him !  "  he  said  deliberately. 

"  Mr.  Galbraith ?  Is  he  worth  all  that?  I  confess  I 
am  at  a  loss  where  to  place  him  in  the  animal  kingdom. 
It  is  a  sheer  abuse  of  language  to  call  him  a  mammalian. 


THE  INGLE  NEUK.  135 

And  yet  I  suppose  he  might  be  worse.  He  is  evidently 
one  of  life's  failures,  but  at  least  he  doesn't  sponge  on 
his  wife  as  some  men  do.  If  he  can't  help,  perhaps  he 
is  better  out  of  the  way." 

"  An'  what  right  has  he  to  be  ane  o'  life's  failures,  as 
you  ca'  it?  He's  cliver  eneugh  for  ten.  What  w'y 
would  he  sponge  on  his  wife?  He  had  money  frae  his 
faither,  an'  a  tocher  wi'  the  first  ane.  If  the  world  used 
him  ill — an'  I  aye  thocht  he  got  nae  mair  nor  his  deserts 
— it  at  least  gi'ed  him  a  guid  education.  He  was  bound 
i'  the  eyes  o'  God  to  hand  it  on  to  his  bairn." 

"  But,  good  friend,  is  the  loss  so  great  ?  What  is  a 
girl's  education  worth  as  a  rule  ? " 

"  I  ken.  Ay,  I  ken  a'  that ;  but  Wilhelmina  was  no* 
a  common  bairn.  She'd  ha'  made  a  scholar." 

"  She  may  make  something  better." 

"  I  ken  that  too.  My  quarrel's  no'  wi'  the  Lord.  It's 
wi'  George  Galbraith." 

"  I  would  like  to  give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind,  I  con- 
fess. The  lady  I  mentioned,  Mrs.  Carlton,  says  Mac- 
intyre  pays  Wilhelmina's  money  direct  to  herself.  I 
will  call  on  Macintyre  to-morrow,  and  see  if  he  can  be 
induced  to  write  to  Mr.  Galbraith.  Failing  that,  is 
there  any  other  relative  he  could  apply  to  ? " 

"  There's  yon  Mistress  Dalrymple.  Her  man's  rich 
eneugh.  The  Dalrymple's  mines  maun  be  worth  a  duke's 
ransom  the  noo." 

"  All  right.  I'll  see  what  can  be  done."  The  min- 
ister stretched  himself.  "  Well-a-day !  It  seems  ages 
since  I  last  had  a  chat  here  with  you." 

"I  mak'  nae  doobt.  A  week  in  London — my  word! 
It  maun  hae  been  a  michty  experience." 

Mr.  Carmichael  laughed  and  blushed.  "  It  was,  in 
some  ways.  I  have  got  into  such  hot  water !  " 

The  old  eyes  twinkled  sympathetically  through  the 
gold-rimmed  spectacles.  "No'  of  a  domestic  nature,  I 
hope?" 

"  No — thank  Heaven !  And  yet  I  am  not  sure  that 
it  isn't  worse.  It  is  theological.  Think  of  my  letting 
myself  in  for  a  heresy  hunt !  " 

The  old  man  drew  himself  up.     "  An'  what  w'y  would 


136  WINDYHAUGH. 

ye  no'  let  yersel'  in  for  a  heresy  hunt?  It  has  whiles 
been  the  lot  o'  your  betters." 

"  No  doubt.  But  why  should  I  ?  The  creed  of  my 
fathers  is  good  enough  for  me." 

"  Yet  there  are  gey  queer  things  i'  the  creed  o'  your 
fathers." 

"  Perhaps.  No,  no !  Don't  confront  me  with  chap- 
ter and  verse.  It  is  barren  work  tinkering  at  a  creed. 
So  long  as  the  confession  permits  me  to  believe  that  God 
is  bigger  than  any  creed,  I'll  undertake  to  find  room." 

A  shade  of  disappointment  crossed  the  old  man's  face. 
"  Weel,  maybe  ye're  richt,"  he  said  resignedly.  "  I'm 
free  to  confess  that  some  o'  our  heretics  have  no'  been 
precisely  an  edifying  spectacle.  They  read  twa-three 
new  books,  then  '  Verily  we  are  the  men,'  they  cry,  f  and 
the  presbytery's  nought  but  a  wheen  doited  loons ! '  But 
the  presbytery  ups  and  on  wi'  its  war-paint,  and  lo,  my 
knight  is  unmasked  and  doun  on  his  knees — an  impident 
college  lad ! " 

The  minister  laughed.     "  You  are  crushing,"  he  said. 

"  Na,  na.  I'm  only  speaking  o'  the  ae  sort.  I  think 
if  you  were  minded  to  play  the  reformer  you'd  hae  the 
spunk  to  carry  it  through.  Ye  mind  o'  Carlyle — '  If  any 
man  hold,  or  is  convinced  that  he  holds,  any  truth,  in 
God's  name  let  him  utter  his  truth  or  conviction,  and 
leave  the  consequences  with  the  God  who  gave  it  him '  ? 
That  would  be  the  w'y  o't  wi'  you,  nae  doubt  ?  " 

Mr.  Carmichael  looked  ashamed  of  himself.  "  It  was 
—in  a  humble  fashion,"  he  said  simply. 

"  Were  you  preaching  in  London  ?  " 

"No.  You  have  read  no  doubt  of  Freeland's  great 
revival  mission.  I  went  to  hear  him,  and  the  place  was 
so  crammed  that  I  had  to  sit  on  the  platform." 

"  Ay  ?  "  The  old  man's  face  was  aglow  with  interest. 
This  was  his  very  own  ground. 

"  It  was  magnificent.  It  really  was.  His  power  of 
rousing  the  hardened  must  be  extraordinary;  and  yet 
all  the  time  he  was  speaking  in  that  hot  reeking  atmos- 
phere I  had  a  mental  picture  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows 
standing  in  the  sweet  morning  air  on  the  open  hillside, 
preaching  a  sermon  that  no  one  ever  has  contracted  into 


A  RESCUE. 


a  creed.  I  am  not  sure  that  the  revivalist  did  not  reach 
some  souls  the  Master  would  have  missed  ;  but  his  hear- 
ers were  not  all  hardened,  and  his  ways  seemed  to  me 
so  much  too  brutal  and  sensational  for  some.  His  sieve 
retained  the  large  stones,  but  the  small  ones  seemed  to  be 
slipping  through  his  meshes.  I  felt  that  many  there 
should  be  seeking  God  in  action,  not  in  sensation,  so 
when  an  opportunity  was  given  to  the  rest  of  us  to 
speak  -  " 

"Well  done!"  cried  Mr.  Darsie. 

"  Wait  a  bit  !  Wait  a  bit  !  It  was  very  forward  and 
rash,  for  many  of  those  on  the  platform  were  my  seniors 
—  and  betters  to  boot.  But  somehow  it  was  just  borne 
in  on  me  that  faith  for  many  of  us  —  thank  God  !  —  simply 
means  a  turning  to  the  light,  so  I  rose  to  my  feet." 

"  And  said  -  " 

"  Oh,  bless  me  !  I  don't  know  what  I  said.  I  know 
what  they  said,  and  what  they  made  me  feel.  Of  course 
there  wasn't  a  word  that  they  could  exactly  object  to  on 
doctrinal  grounds,  but  they  said  I  had  turned  from  its 
course  a  swift  and  well-thrown  dart.  Perhaps  they  were 
right.  I  lay  awake  half  the  night  thinking  what  a  fool 
I  was.  One  often  recalls  that  fine  expression,  '  the  fool- 
ishness of  preaching.'  Who  shall  define  faith  to  him 
who  has  not  felt  it?  We  strive  and  strive  to  generate 
faith,  and  all  the  time  —  the  wind  bloweth  where  it  will  !  " 

Mr.  Darsie  was  gazing  fixedly  into  the  fire.  The 
.minister  had  wandered  a  bit  beyond  that  limited  spir- 
itual tether  of  his.  "  It's  a  pity,"  said  the  old  man  at 
last,  "  but  what  Williamina  had  been  there  !  " 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  RESCUE. 

MR.  CARMICHAEL  interviewed  the  lawyer  next  day,  and 
obtained  his  promise  to  write  to  Mr.  Galbraith. 

"  He  is  not  a  rich  man,"  said  Mr.  Macintyre  gravely, 


138  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  and  I  was  under  the  impression  that  he  already  con- 
tributed a  considerable  sum  to  his  wife's  support." 

"  He  had  money  with  his  first  wife,  I  understand  ? " 

"  Very  little.  She  would  have  been  a  rich  woman 
had  she  lived;  but  the  money  that  would  have  come  to 
her  is  not  likely  to  come  to  Mr.  Galbraith.  I  suppose 
it  will  all  go  to  Mrs.  Dalrymple  now." 

"  In  any  case  you  see  how  undesirable  it  is  that  a 
clever  child  like  that  should  be  growing  up  without  any 
education." 

"  Oh,  quite — quite.  But  the  stepmother  must  be  to 
blame.  I  don't  believe  he  realizes  the  situation  in  the 
least." 

"  At  any  rate  you  will  admit  that  it  is  his  business 
to  realize  the  situation  ?  " 

The  lawyer  raised  his  hand.  "  It  is  not  my  business 
to  sit  in  judgment  on  him,  sir,"  he  said.  "  He  is  a  man 
on  whom  life  has  been  hard.  But  I  will  write  to  him, 
and  if  nothing  comes  of  that,  I'll  write  to  Mrs.  Dal- 
rymple. I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  such  an  account  of 
little  Miss  Galbraith." 

Mr.  Carmichael  was  glad  to  have  a  disagreeable  busi- 
ness behind  him.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  to  himself 
as  he  ran  down  the  steps,  "  that  what  George  Galbraith 
wants  is  a  good  kicking." 

It  was  a  fine  cloudless  afternoon  in  January.  The 
minister  was  in  a  mood  for  a  good  walk  across  country, 
so  he  resolved  to  look  up  a  few  humble  parishioners  in 
the  outlying  hamlet  of  Windyhaugh.  "  It  seems  an 
age,"  he  said,  "  since  I  saw  the  old  place." 

He  strode  along  the  crisp  roads  at  a  good  swinging 
pace.  Windyhaugh  had  been  let  for  a  few  years,  but 
now  it  stood  empty,  save  for  the  presence  of  old  Ann 
who  acted  as  caretaker.  The  shrubbery  was  tangled 
and  overgrown,  and  the  whole  place  had  an  air  of  neg- 
lect. "I  will  look  up  Ann  on  my  way  back,"  thought 
the  minister.  "No  doubt  she  will  give  me  a  cup  of 
tea." 

At  the  outskirts  of  the  village  he  was  waylaid  by  an 
old  woman.  "  Will  you  please  gang  doun  to  the  shore, 
sir  ?  "  she  said.  "  There's  been  an  awf u'  accident.  Twa 


A  RESCUE.  139 

gentlemen  were  crossing  ower  frae  Silverton,  an'  the 
boat  capsized  close  to  the  shore  here." 

"  They  got  to  land,  I  hope?  " 

"  Ou  ay,  sir.  Ane  o'  them  is  a'  richt,  but  they're  no* 
sure  o'  the  tither.  I  was  no'  to  tell  folk,  for  they're  no' 
wantin'  a  crood ;  but  they  sent  my  Jack  for  the  doctor." 

"The  doctor!"  said  the  minister  aghast.  "It  may 
be  midnight  before  they  find  him !  " 

He  took  to  his  heels  at  once,  and  ran  in  the  direction 
of  the  beach.  Some  months  before,  he  had  come  across 
a  paper  on  the  treatment  of  the  apparently  drowned, 
and  had  resolved  to  impress  the  directions  on  his  mem- 
ory in  case  of  such  an  emergency  as  the  present.  Un- 
fortunately he  had  omitted  to  carry  out  his  laudable  in- 
tention, and  now  he  strove  in  vain  to  recall  the  direc- 
tions prescribed. 

"  One  ought  to  be  able  to  think  out  the  rationale  of 
the  thing,"  he  said  to  himself  indignantly  as  he  ran ;  but 
his  knowledge  of  physiology  was  even  more  elementary 
than  he  supposed,  and  he  had  come  in  sight  of  the  little 
group  on  the  beach  before  he  had  decided  on  any  plan  of 
action. 

He  remembered  afterwards  how  striking  was  the 
scene  that  met  his  anxious  eyes.  The  sun  was  setting 
over  the  sea,  and  a  few  weird  wisps  of  black  cloud  stood 
out  in  strong  relief  against  a  ruddy  background.  The 
whole  group  was  in  silhouette  save  for  the  figure  of  a 
young  man  who  lay  stretched  on  the  rocks,  with  his 
shoulders  propped  on  a  bundle.  At  his  head  knelt  an 
older  man — also  dripping  wet — in  his  shirt  sleeves.  He 
had  taken  a  grip  of  the  lad's  arms  above  the  elbow,  and, 
with  a  deliberate  rhythmical  movement,  was  pressing 
them  against  the  patient's  sides  and  then  raising  them 
above  his  head.  His  whole  attention  was  fixed  on  the 
supine  figure;  but  the  calmness  of  his  manner  was  such 
as  to  suggest  preoccupation  in  a  game  of  skill  rather 
than  in  a  hand-to-hand  tussle  with  death. 

"  Thank  Heaven !  "  said  the  minister,  relieved  to  find 
his  own  incompetence  merged  in  the  competence  of  an- 
other. 

For  a  short  time  he  watched  the  slow  masterly  move- 
10 


140  WINDYHAUGH. 

ment  with  admiration,  and  then  he  threw  off  his  coat. 
"  I  think  I  see  now  how  you  do  it,"  he  said.  "  You  must 
be  tired.  Let  me  relieve  you." 

The  stranger  looked  up  without  disturbing  the 
rhythm  of  the  movement.  His  grave  eyes  took  the 
measure  of  the  speaker,  so  there  was  a  tacit  compliment 
in  the  movement  of  the  head  with  which  he  motioned 
to  the  minister  to  take  a  place  beside  him.  Mr.  Car- 
michael  felt  a  sudden  desire,  not  only  to  save  a  life,  but 
to  gain  the  approbation  of  this  man. 

The  work  was  much  harder  than  he  had  anticipated, 
but  he  did  his  best,  as  indeed  most  men  would  have  done 
with  those  critical  eyes  upon  them. 

"  Surtout  point  de  zele"  said  the  stranger  gently. 
"  I  think  he  will  be  all  right,  but  his  gratitude  might  be 
tempered  if  he  woke  to  a  dislocated  shoulder." 

The  minister  smiled. 

"  Slowly !  Steady !  Press  his  elbows  well  into  his 
ribs.  Now  you  have  got  the  knack."  For  the  first  time 
the  speaker  took  his  eyes  from  the  patient. 

"Well,"  he  said  quietly,  turning  to  the  little  group 
of  lads  who  were  looking  on,  "  have  you  got  the  shutter 
and  the  blankets?  That's  right." 

He  threw  a  blanket  over  the  prostrate  figure,  and 
showed  two  of  the  lads  how  to  chafe  the  cold  limbs. 

"  I  think  we  might  get  a  little  brandy  down  now,"  he 
said,  producing  a  flask,  and  he  succeeded  in  administer- 
ing a  few  drops  with  excellent  effect.  The  young  man 
swallowed  them,  then  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  around 
him.  A  fine  face  his,  blurred  and  dreamy  though  the 
eyes  were — the  face  of  a  young  idealist. 

The  minister  was  growing  very  tired  with  the  unac- 
customed exertion,  but  he  was  determined  not  to  cry 
for  quarter.  His  breath  came  fast,  and  the  sweat  stood 
on  his  brow  before  the  stranger  interfered. 

"Now  then,  padre"  he  said.  "I  think  he  is  all 
right.  You  take  one  arm,  and  I'll  take  the  other  for  a 
few  minutes,  just  to  make  sure." 

This  was  easy,  involving  as  it  did  a  change  of  posi- 
tion and  of  muscular  strain.  It  was  pleasant  too  to  work 
with  such  a  man — to  watch  how  smoothly  his  muscles 


A  RESCUE.  141 

moved  in  obedience  to  his  bidding.  A  line  or  two  of 
poetry  ran  persistently — with  what  he  himself  deemed 
irrelevant  profanity — in  the  minister's  mind — 

"  Here,  work  enough  to  watch 
The  Master  work,  and  catch 
Hints  of  the  proper  craft,  tricks  of  the  tool's  true  play." 

A  few  minutes  later  they  lifted  the  patient  on  to 
the  shutter,  and  gave  it  to  two  strong  young  fellows  to 
carry. 

"  Take  him  up  to  Windyhaugh,"  said  the  stranger. 
"  Steady !  We'll  follow  in  case  you  grow  tired." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  won't  do,"  said  the  minister. 
"  Windyhaugh  is  shut  up." 

The  stranger  gave  him  a  curious  glance.  "I  think 
I  can  gain  entrance  to  it,"  he  said. 

Just  as  they  were  leaving  the  rocks  he  laid  his  hand 
on  the  minister's  arm  and  turned  towards  the  sunset. 
The  colour  of  the  sky  had  deepened  to  an  angry  red, 
and  the  clouds  had  assumed  an  aspect  more  weird  and 
grotesque  than  ever.  "  Strange,"  he  said,  "  an  hour  ago 
the  sky  was  pale  blue,  with  golden  white  clouds  like  a 
flight  of  angels — far  more  like  angels  than  Dore's  pic- 
ture. And  now,  look!  It  is  a  regular  Brocken  dance." 

"It  is  very  remarkable,"  said  the  minister. 

He  was  ashamed  of  the  stiff  conventional  response, 
and  indeed  his  feeling  for  this  strange  man  was  anything 
but  stiff  and  conventional.  He  keenly  appreciated  that 
friendly  touch  on  the  arm,  that  casual  little  remark. 
Moreover,  had  he  not  read  Martin's  translation  of  Faust  ? 
— and  did  he  not  come  straight  from  Dore's  picture? 

"  I  suppose  you  are  a  doctor  ?  "  he  said  as  they  made 
their  way  up  to  the  house. 

The  stranger  laughed.  "  Oh,  110 ;  but  I  have  found 
that  kind  of  thing  useful  before  now.  I  have  done  a 
deal  of  yachting  in  my  time." 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  farther  use  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  thank  you.  He  is  all  right  for  the  mo- 
ment, and  the  doctor  will  be  here  before  night." 

"  May  I  call  to-morrow  to  enquire  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  the  young  fellow  will  be  delighted  to 


142  WINDYHAUGH. 

have  an  opportunity  of  expressing  his  gratitude.  I  fear 
I  must  leave  the  place  to-night." 

"  There  is  no  question  of  gratitude  to  me,"  said  the 
minister  impulsively.  "Your  friend  owes  his  life  to 
you." 

The  stranger  looked  up.  "  I  think  you  are  under  a 
misapprehension,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  know  the  young 
fellow.  I  chanced  to  see  the  accident  from  the  terrace. 
Oh !  " — he  glanced  at  his  dripping  clothes — "  I  did  lend 
a  hand  to  pull  them  out  of  the  water.  The  other  was 
all  right,  save  for  a  rap  on  the  head,  so  I  sent  him 
straight  up  to  my  house.  My  name  is  George  Gal- 
braith." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   FAIRY   GODMOTHER. 

THE  grey  light  of  a  February  dawn  was  breaking  over 
London. 

The  month  was  one  of  the  coldest  on  record,  and 
most  of  the  pipes  in  the  neighbourhood  were  frozen. 
Wilhelmina  was  out  in  the  garden,  armed  with  a  shovel 
and  a  huge  kitchen  kettle,  fetching  in  snow  to  melt  for 
household  use. 

A  number  of  servants  had  come  and  gone  since  the 
"  general's  "  fine  feeling  had  prompted  her  to  send  that 
post-card.  The  difficulty  was  to  get  two  at  a  time,  and 
hitherto  the  single  one  had  always  declined  to  stay,  for 
in  truth  the  housework  was  falling  into  arrears  suffi- 
ciently alarming  even  to  a  competent  person.  More- 
over the  servants  next  door  were  ready  now  with  a 
mysterious  whisper  that  Mrs.  Galbraith's  was  a  "  bad 
place,"  and  there  was  no  fighting  against  a  rumour  like 
that,  though  beef  and  beer  were  plentiful  in  the  kitchen, 
when  Mrs.  Galbraith  was  living  mainly  on  bread  and  tea. 

The  departure  of  the  Stotts  had  come  almost  as  a  re- 
lief at  last,  especially  as  their  rooms  were  quickly  taken 
by  two  quiet  elderly  ladies  who  were  fairly  easy  to 


THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER.  143 

please ;  and  indeed  the  absence  of  servants  was  almost  a 
relief  too  in  its  way,  now  that  there  were  so  many  en- 
forced petty  economies  to  make  mother  and  daughter 
ridiculous  in  vulgar  eyes. 

Still,  when  one  first  woke  up  on  a  bitter  winter's  day, 
one  would  have  been  thankful  for  the  veriest  cockney 
slut  just  to  bring  in  the  snow,  and  light  the  kitchen  fire. 

Mrs.  Galbraith's  health  was  really  giving  way  under 
the  strain  and  privation.  About  the  end  of  January 
she  had  been  made  very  happy  by  a  letter  from  her  hus- 
band— a  letter  enclosing  a  twenty-pound  note,  and  ex- 
pressing the  hope  that  Wilhelmina  was  "  getting  on  with 
her  lessons ; "  but  of  course  the  twenty  pounds  slipped 
at  once  through  the  sieve  of  their  requirements,  and  left 
them  to  all  practical  purposes  where  they  had  been 
before. 

Wilhelmina  had  to  work  much  harder  than  was 
strictly  desirable  at  her  age,  but  many  a  girl  has  had  to 
do  that  before  her.  Fortunately  her  appetite  was  good, 
and  she  justified  a  traditional  belief  in  the  virtues  of 
oatmeal  porridge ;  but  this  did  not  prevent  her  suffering 
acutely  when  she  and  her  stepmother  were  preparing  the 
lodgers'  simple  midday  dinner,  and  night  after  night  she 
dreamed  of  sweetmeats  and  cakes  with  a  persistence  that 
seemed  pitiably  carnal  in  a  child  of  light.  Her  great 
prayer  at  this  time  was  to  be  delivered  from  temptations 
of  the  flesh. 

"  I  have  had  such  a  happy  idea,"  said  Mrs.  Galbraith 
one  afternoon.  "  You  must  write  to  your  Aunt  Enid. 
I  can't  imagine  why  we  didn't  think  of  it  before.  She 
couldn't  refuse  to  help  us." 

Wilhelmina  shook  her  head.  "  No,  Miitterchen,"  she 
said,  "  that's  impossible.  I  can't  write  to  her." 

"  Then  all  I  can  say  is  that  you  are  very  proud  and 
selfish.  I  have  written  to  all  my  relations,  and  this  is 
the  first  time  I  have  asked  you  to  write  to  anybody." 

"  Miitterchen,"  pleaded  Wilhelmina,  "  do  let  us  go 
and  live  in  some  tiny  cottage." 

"  On  forty  pounds  a  year  ?  And  what  about  the  lease 
of  this  house?  If  we  could  only  let  all  the  rooms  and 
get  a  couple  of  capable  servants,  we  should  be  all  right." 


144  WINDYHAUGH. 

"If/"  thought  Wilhelmina. 

"Even  supposing  your  aunt  refused  to  lend  us 
money,  which  is  impossible,  think  how  easy  it  would  be 
for  her  to  send  us  lodgers  now  and  then." 

Wilhelmina  sighed.  Her  life  had  taught  her  some 
sharp  lessons  in  worldly  wisdom,  but  she  could  not  bring 
herself  to  point  out  to  her  stepmother  how  impossible 
it  would  be  for  Mrs.  Dalrymple  to  own  to  her  friends 
that  she  had  relatives  who  kept  a  lodging-house  in  Bays- 
water.  "  Of  course  we  wouldn't  say  she  was  my  aunt," 
thought  Wilhelmina,  "but  I  can't  tell  her  that  we 
wouldn't." 

"In  the  meantime,"  continued  Mrs.  Galbraith, 
"think  what  a  difference  a  few  pounds  would  make  to 
us!  And  there  is  your  aunt  living  in  boundless  lux- 
ury." 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  Wilhelmina.  "  I  cannot  write  to 
her.  I  would  rather  sweep  a  crossing." 

"  Oh,  that  is  cheaply  said.  You  are  not  likely  to  be 
asked  to  sweep  a  crossing.  It  is  easy  for  you  with  your 
healthy  appetite.  Think  what  it  would  be  to  me  to  have 
even  a  little  nourishing  food." 

"  You  would  like  tea  now,  wouldn't  you,  Miitter- 
chen  ? "  said  Wilhelmina,  glad  to  strike  off  at  a  tangent. 
"  I  will  get  it  before  I  get  the  Miss  Prynnes'." 

She  laid  out  the  tray  as  attractively  as  might  be.  On 
the  larder  shelf  stood  a  small  roast  turkey  which  had 
been  sent  to  Miss  Prynne  a  few  days  before.  "  It  will 
take  them  weeks  to  nibble  through  all  that,"  thought 
Wilhelmina.  "  They  will  never  miss  a  tiny  morsel." 
The  smell  of  the  turkey  seemed  to  penetrate  to  the  child's 
very  finger-tips.  It  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  With 
hasty  trembling  hands  she  carved  a  few  ragged  slices, 
and  ran  upstairs. 

"  There,  Miitterchen !  "  she  said  defiantly.  "  I  have 
helped  myself  from  Miss  Prynne's  shelf  in  the  larder. 
They'll  never  miss  it." 

"  Well,  I  arn  sure  they  pay  little  enough  for  all  the 
trouble  they  give !  "  said  Mrs.  Galbraith.  (Was  it  pos- 
sible that  this  was  not  the  first  occasion  on  which  the 
lodger's  supplies  had  been  forced  to  render  tribute?) 


THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER.  145 

"  I  quite  expected  they  would  ask  us  to  share  that  tur- 
key." 

She  partook  of  the  luxury  with  something  more  like 
appetite  than  she  had  shown  for  many  a  day,  and  in- 
sisted that  Wilhelmina  should  eat  what  remained.  The 
child  refused  at  first,  but  she  had  tact  enough  to  see  that 
her  stepmother  might  well  resent  such  self-denial  on  her 
part,  and  besides — she  was  so  hungry ! 

But  retribution  was  destined  to  come  with  swift  and 
sure  foot.  "  I  think,"  said  Miss  Prynne,  severely,  that 
evening,  "  we  will  keep  our  provisions  in  the  cupboard 
here  for  the  future.  I  do  prefer  to  have  them  in  the 
larder  downstairs  where  it  is  cool,  but — but  I  think  on 
the  whole  you  had  better  leave  the  turkey  here." 

Wilhelmina  had  deserved  far  less  merciful  treatment, 
but  her  face  burned  like  fire.  Never  in  all  her  life  had 
she  known  such  humiliation  as  this.  Only  the  constant 
habit  of  self-restraint  in  petty  things  enabled  her  to  go 
on  with  her  work,  and  to  leave  the  room  without  some 
kind  of  hysterical  outburst.  The  reproof  was  cutting — 
and  well  merited — and  she  was  a  Christian,  a  child  of 
light!  A  nice  one  she  to  mourn  over  her  stepmother's 
defections  from  the  standard  of  rigid  rectitude !  "  Oh, 
God !  "  she  cried  in  her  sore  distress,  "  how  easy  it  would 
be  to  be  good  if  one  had  no  temptations !  "  She  laughed 
at  herself  in  later  days  when  she  recalled  the  words  of 
the  prayer;  but  after  all  it  is  one  that  has  gone  up  from 
human  hearts — I  don't  talk  of  lips — more  often  perhaps 
than  any  other. 

The  evening  was  Sunday,  and  Wilhelmina  was  going 
to  chapel.  In  truth  chapel-going  was  the  one  recreation 
of  her  life  at  this  time,  for,  acting  on  a  suggestion  of 
the  revivalist,  she  had  ceased  to  read  any  but  purely  re- 
ligious books. 

As  so  often  happens,  the  text  seemed  to  fall  in  sur- 
prisingly with  her  train  of  thought — 

"  Who  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord,  or  who 
shall  stand  in  his  holy  place? 

"  He  that  hath  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart" 

She  never  knew  how  much  of  the  sermon  that  fol- 
lowed was  the  preacher's,  and  how  much  was  evolved  in 


146  WINDYHAUGH. 

her  own  busy  heart  and  brain ;  but  she  made  a  few  reso- 
lutions that  evening  of  the  imminent  kind  that  bring 
sweat  to  one's  brow.  All  innocent  of  modern  criticism, 
she  put  her  own  construction  on  a  later  verse  of  the 
psalm — 

"Lift  up  your  heads,  0  ye  gates;  and  be  ye  lift 
up,  ye  everlasting  doors;  and  the  King  of  glory  shall 
come  in." 

An  alienist  would  have  said  that  the  child  was  in  a 
bad  way,  that  she  wanted  cheerful  society,  good  food, 
and  a  few  pretty  frocks.  Of  course  the  alienist  would 
have  been  right,  but  at  least  the  patient's  will-power  had 
suffered  no  diminution. 

"  Miss  Prynne,"  she  said  next  day  with  naming  face, 
"  would  you  like  your  things  to  go  back  to  the  larder  ? 
I  did  take  some  of  your  turkey,  but  it  won't  happen 
again." 

Miss  Prynne  looked  startled,  as  most  of  us  do  when 
a  human  soul  throws  off  its  wrappings  before  our  eyes. 
Who  was  she  that  St.  Peter's  keys  should  be  thus  sud- 
denly thrust  into  her  hand?  Fortunately  for  Wilhel- 
mina  she  elected  to  loose  and  not  to  bind. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  she  said  kindly.  "  I  shall  be 
glad  if  you  will  take  the  things  downstairs." 

She  reproached  herself  afterwards  for  not  having 
farther  improved  the  occasion.  We  are  so  slow  to  realize 
that  our  inborn  shyness  is  a  far  more  precious  gift  than 
most  of  our  talents. 

Wilhelmina  almost  staggered  from  the  room.  The 
feeling  of  humiliation  oppressed  her  still,  but  she  was 
very  thankful  too.  True,  she  had  only  ascended  one 
rung  of  the  ladder  she  had  set  before  her;  but  what  a 
step  that  had  been! 

Mrs.  Galbraith  was  very  poorly  that  morning,  and 
as  the  next  day  and  the  next  brought  no  improvement, 
Wilhelmina  begged  to  be  allowed  to  fetch  a  doctor. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  her  stepmother  sharply.  "  It  is 
weakness,  that  is  all.  He  would  only  give  me  a  tonic 
that  would  make  me  long  for  the  food  I  can't  get." 

"  But  the  pain  in  your  side  ?  " 

"Well!    He  would  recommend  a  cutlet  and  a  glass 


THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER.  147 

of  Burgundy  for  lunch.  Why  pay  for  a  piece  of  ad- 
vice that  I  have  been  giving  myself  for  weeks." 

Wilhelmina  expected  a  renewal  of  the  suggestion 
about  applying  to  Mrs.  Dalrymple,  and  she  steeled  her 
heart.  It  was  not  only  "pride  and  selfishness"  that 
made  her  hold  out :  she  had  learned  by  bitter  experience 
that  any  help  her  aunt  could  give  her  would  only  post- 
pone the  evil  day.  Their  affairs  were  involved  beyond 
hope.  She  had  just  found  out  that  Mrs.  Galbraith  was 
still  paying  interest  on  debts  contracted  in  Harley 
Street. 

But,  to  her  surprise,  her  stepmother  did  not  renew 
the  attack.  "  I'll  tell  you  what,  dear,"  she  said — "  we 
must  let  that  pearl  bracelet  go.  I  could  not  bear  to  part 
with  it — as — as  we  have  parted  with  other  things ;  but  I 
quite  hope  to  be  able  to  redeem  it  next  week.  Will  you 
take  it  this  afternoon  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  nodded,  wondering  by  what  means  her 
stepmother  proposed  to  redeem  it.  At  one  time  a  visit 
to  the  pawnbroker  had  meant  torture  to  the  child,  but 
the  disgrace  of  it  seemed  small  now  in  comparison  with 
that  of  an  appeal  to  her  aunt,  and,  moreover,  there  is 
nothing  like  hunger  for  blunting  one's  delicate  sensi- 
bilities. Wilhelmina  would  have  faced  a  good  deal  to 
obtain  that  cutlet. 

It  was  afternoon  when  she  set  out.  She  put  the 
jewel-case  into  her  pocket,  and  inserted  a  great  safety- 
pin  above  it  to  keep  it  in  place.  She  would  not  go  to 
any  shop  in  the  neighbourhood.  A  'bus  from  the  Royal 
Oak  took  her  to  Oxford  Street,  and  thence  she  proceeded 
on  foot.  She  knew  a  number  of  pawnshops,  and  meant 
to  get  offers  from  several  before  closing  with  one.  "  I 
will  be  as  hard  as  nails,"  she  said  to  herself  stoutly.  "  I 
mean  to  get  out  of  this  bracelet  just  as  many  cutlets  and 
glasses  of  Burgundy  as  ever  I  can." 

The  first  two  offers  were  distinctly  disappointing, 
and,  somewhat  crestfallen,  she  bent  her  steps  farther  into 
the  city.  She  was  in  the  region  of  the  theatres  now, 
in  the  thick  of  the  rush  and  roar;  and  already  the  car- 
riages were  assembling  for  the  close  of  the  morning  per- 
formances. At  one  door  a  crowd  had  gathered,  and  Wil- 


148  WINDYHAUGH. 

helmina  heard  a  murmur  of  "  the  Princess."  She  won- 
dered whether  she  too  should  stop  and  peep,  but  decided 
that  her  errand  would  not  admit  of  any  delay.  As  she 
came  to  this  decision,  she  instinctively  put  her  hand  for 
the  fiftieth  time  in  the  direction  of  her  pocket. 

The  familiar  lump  was  gone ! 

Her  heart  gave  a  leap  that  nearly  choked  her,  and 
she  made  several  frantic  clutches  about  her  dress.  Then, 
with  unconscious  frankness,  she  lifted  the  scrimp,  short 
skirt  to  look.  Someone,  alas !  had  done  that  before  her. 
The  safety-pin  remained  as  she  had  placed  it,  but  pocket 
and  jewel-case  had  been  removed  with  a  sharp,  jagged 
cut. 

Wilhelmina  scarcely  believed  her  eyes.  She  did  not 
see  how  the  theft  could  have  been  done.  She  had  never 
ceased  thinking  of  the  jewel-case  for  a  minute,  and  how 
was  it  possible  that  her  pocket  had  been  cut  away  with- 
out her  knowing  it?  She  had  fancied  herself  a  match 
for  this  big,  clever,  wicked  London — alas !  alas ! 

If  she  had  in  the  least  realized  the  danger  of  faint- 
ing, she  would  certainly  have  fainted  then,  for  she  was 
weak  for  want  of  nourishing  food;  but  fortunately  such 
an  idea  never  occurred  to  her,  and  the  thought  of  her 
terrible  loss  prevented  her  paying  attention  to  the  queer 
lightness  of  her  head.  The  people  were  pouring  out  of 
the  theatre  now,  and  instinctively  she  moved  aside  to 
let  them  pass. 

"  Are  you  ill,  little  girl  ? "  said  a  pleasant  voice,  and 
Wilhelmina  looked  up  to  see  a  beautiful  lady  resplendent 
in  silks  and  furs. 

" Miss  Evelyn!"  she  cried. 

The  actress  would  certainly  not  have  recognized 
her  face,  but  something  in  the  eager  cry  recalled  the 
night  long  ago  when  she  first  took  Mrs.  Carrington's 
part. 

"  Why,  it  is  Wilhelmina  Galbraith !  "  she  said,  shocked 
at  the  child's  obvious  poverty.  "  Have  a  sniff  at  my 
vinaigrette.  Hansom !  " 

Two  minutes  later  Wilhelmina's  head  was  pillowed 
on  the  delicious  soft  sealskin,  and  they  were  trotting 
away  westwards  as  fast  as  the  crowded  state  of  the  streets 


THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER.  149 

would  permit.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  the  dream  of  the 
Fairy  Godmother  had  come  true. 

"  And  I  am  dining  to-night,  as  it  chances,"  said  Miss 
Evelyn  hospitably.  "  As  a  rule  I  have  a  horrid  nonde- 
script meal  at  four;  but  I  went  to  see  Burleigh  Debrett 
at  the  Agamemnon  to-day,  and  ordered  dinner  for  six 
o'clock.  We'll  have  a  bottle  of  fizz,  and  drink  old  times." 

Her  pretty  sitting-room  was  gay  with  flowers.  "  I 
had  rather  a  success  last  evening,"  she  said  half  apolo- 
getically— "  quite  a  shower  of  bouquets." 

She  established  Wilhelmina  on  the  luxurious  lounge 
by  the  fire,  and  moving  quietly  to  the  mantelpiece,  turned 
the  face  of  a  photograph  to  the  wall.  She  was  talking 
gaily  all  the  time,  and  Wilhelmina  did  not  notice  the 
action;  indeed,  she  was  quite  sufficiently  interested  in 
watching  the  preparations  for  dinner. 

What  a  royal  feast  it  seemed  to  the  half-starved  child 
— soup,  a  brace  of  pheasants,  a  dainty  cream,  and  hot- 
house grapes!  The  first  whiff  of  the  savoury  soup 
brought  the  tears  to  her  eyes,  and,  try  as  she  would,  she 
could  not  keep  them  back.  Miss  Evelyn  only  half  filled 
her  visitor's  glass  with  champagne,  but  of  course  even 
that  was  too  much,  and  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  the 
child  sobbed  out  her  tale  of  woe.  For  years  she  had  con- 
fided in  no  one,  and  now,  topsy  turvy,  out  came  the 
whole  story  with  a  rush. 

"There,  there!  Poor  child!  Poor  little  one!"  said 
Miss  Evelyn  kindly.  "  I  suppose  some  brute  of  a  lounger 
about  the  pawnshop  saw  you  putting  your  hand  to  your 
pocket  and  followed  you.  He  could  manage  that  little 
feat  quite  easily  in  the  crowd.  Mrs.  Galbraith  ought  to 
do  such  errands  herself." 

"  She  is  not  well." 

The  actress  nodded  unsympathetically.  She  had  never 
considered  Mrs.  Galbraith's  life  worth  while. 

"  See,"  she  said,  "  I  am  going  to  pack  a  basket  for 
you  to  take  home.  Nonsense !  Fortune's  wheel  is  al- 
ways spinning.  You'll  do  me  a  good  turn  some  day ; 
or,  if  I  don't  want  it,  you'll  do  it  to  someone  else.  That 
is  very  fai?  claret.  It  will  do  your  stepmother  good; 
and  you  will  answer,  won't  you,  for  the  pheasant  and 


150  WINDYHAUGH. 

grapes?  I  am  in  funds  just  now,  so  you  shall  take  two 
gold  pennies,  and  pay  me  back  when  you  are  a  rich 
woman." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Evelyn!  "  said  the  child,  "  how  can  I?  " 

The  actress  pinched  her  ear.  "  You  are  a  great  deal 
too  proud — that  is  what  you  are.  Do  you  know,  half 
the  pretty  things  in  this  room  are  presents? — and  I  as- 
sure you  I  made  no  bones  about  accepting  them.  Now 
I  know  you  are  longing  to  be  off.  I  am  sorry  I  can't  go 
with  you,  but  I  am  due  at  the  theatre  very  soon.  My 
maid  shall  take  you  home  in  a  hansom,  and  hurry  back 
to  me." 

She  watched  the  hansom  drive  away,  and,  returning 
to  the  sitting-room,  she  buried  her  face  in  a  choice  little 
bouquet  of  orchids.  A  card  attached  to  it  bore,  in  a 
pencil  scrawl,  the  initials  G.  G. 

Then  she  restored  the  slighted  photograph  to  its  origi- 
nal position,  and  looked  with  calm  criticism  at  the  fine 
features  it  portrayed. 

"  It's  a  mad  world,  my  masters,"  she  said  with  a 
philosophic  shrug  of  her  shoulders ;  "  but  I  don't  see 
why  I  should  be  the  one  to  apply  the  strait- jacket.  It's 
a  mad,  mad  world !  " 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

TWO   WORLDS   MEET. 

"  I  WILL  have  tea  in  the  boudoir  this  afternoon,  Pear- 
son," said  Enid.  "  Tell  them  to  say  I  am  not  at  home, 
unless  it  is  someone  special." 

"Yes,  madam." 

"  I  think  I  must  have  that  gown  at  Lucile's,  after 
all,  Pearson,  though  I  don't  in  the  least  know  how  I  am 
to  afford  it.  It's  a  lovely  thing." 

"  And  might  have  been  designed  for  you,  madam.  It 
will  be  thrown  away  on  a  short  squat  figure  and  colour- 
less hair." 

"  Oh,  depend  upon  it  some  bald  dwarf  like  Lady  Fan- 


TWO  WORLDS  MEET.  151 

shawe  went  in  to-day  after  we  left,  and  snapped  it  up. 
I  never  resist  the  devil  without  regretting  it  afterwards. 
Well,  go  and  give  the  order  about  the  tea." 

As  she  spoke,  Enid  disposed  herself  comfortably  in 
her  favourite  easy-chair.  The  day  was  cold,  and  the  glow 
of  the  wood  fire  fell  on  the  ermine  bands  of  her  tea- 
gown  like  sunlight  on  foam.  The  gown  was  one  of  her 
own  happy  ideas,  an  unusual  combination  of  myrtle 
green  velvet  and  turquoise  blue.  She  took  up  a  piece 
of  embroidery,  but  her  work  had  made  little  progress 
when  a  "  special "  visitor  was  ushered  in — Mr.  Ronald 
Dalrymple. 

Ronald  Dalrymple  bore  a  considerable  resemblance  to 
Fergus;  but,  although  the  tailor  had  turned  him  out 
more  expensively  than  his  brother,  nature  had  econo- 
mized in  various  ways,  producing,  indeed,  a  cheaper 
article  altogether.  The  reduction  of  a  few  inches  in 
stature  makes  comparatively  little  difference,  but  when 
the  same  process  is  applied  to  the  forehead,  the  chin, 
the  lower  jaw— the  effect  is  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
saving  of  material.  Enid  and  Ronald  had  always  been 
good  friends,  and,  since  George  Galbraith  had  rendered 
himself  impossible,  she  had  found  her  husband's  young 
brother  particularly  useful. 

"Well,"  she  said,  smiling,  "did  you  bring  Hugh?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  they  made  no  special  difficulty.  He  is  to 
go  back  early  on  Monday.  Rollins  indicated  that  they 
do  not  exactly  regard  him  as  a  burning  and  shining 
light." 

"Poor  boy!  No;  books  are  not  in  his  line.  I  do 
detest  this  system  of  competitive  examination  for  the 
army.  It  is  most  unfitting  for  the  sons  of  gentlemen." 

"  Oh,  I've  no  doubt  he'll  scrape  through.  He  has 
plenty  of  time  yet  to  come  and  go  upon.  I  have  prom- 
ised to  take  him  to  the  Alhambra  to-night.  I  say,  Enid, 
do  you  know  you  look  perfectly  magnificent  ? " 

She  smiled  without  surprise.  "I  am  so  glad.  This 
thing  feels  deliciously  cosy,  but  I  was  afraid  it  looked 
cold." 

"  Cold?  With  the  firelight,  and  the  gold  of  the  room, 
and  your  hair!" 


152  WINDYHAUGH. 

Ronald  was  certainly  improving — so  much  so  that 
Enid  thought  it  worth  while  to  pursue  the  subject. 

"  I  always  envy  brunettes,"  she  said,  "  who  can  wear 
amber  and  yellow  and  scarlet — make  themselves  the  very 
incarnation  of  warmth  and  colour." 

"Oh,  I  say!" 

This  was  feeble.  George  Galbraith  would  have  told 
her  that  she  need  not  seek  to  do  for  herself  what  Na- 
ture had  done  for  her  so  abundantly;  but  one  must  not 
expect  Ronald  to  rise  to  George  Galbraith's  level. 

He  made  no  attempt  to  amplify  his  remark.  For  the 
first  time  it  struck  Enid  that  he  was  looking  extraordi- 
narily ill  at  ease. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  stammered  awkwardly  at  last, 
"  could  you  conveniently  let  me  have  the  loan  of  fifty 
pounds  for  a  week  or  two  ? " 

"  You,  Ronald !  Why,  I  always  comforted  myself 
with  the  reflection  that,  as  a  last  resource,  I  might  make 
that  request  to  you." 

"I  should  be  delighted,  I'm  sure." 

"  I  look  upon  you  as  the  monied  man  of  the  family." 

"  Oh,  come  now !  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  With  your  Uncle  Ronald's  money 
you  are  to  all  intents  and  purposes  far  richer  than  we 
are." 

"Well,  I  do  contrive  to  rub  along.  This  is  only  a 
momentary  difficulty.  The  fact  is,"  he  added,  ashamed 
of  himself  for  volunteering  the  information,  "  Galbraith 
has  kept  me  longer  than  usual  out  of  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred I  lent  him." 

"Why  don't  you  break  with  George  Galbraith?"  she 
cried  petulantly. 

"  Why  ?  Because  he  is  a  rattling  good  fellow.  He'll 
stump  up  right  enough,  never  fear.  There  is  nobody 
like  him.  I  flatter  myself  that  I  know  my  world  fairly 
well,  but  Galbraith  is  always  putting  me  up  to  fresh 
wrinkles." 

"  He  certainly  did  so  when  he  married  that  smilax 
woman !  " 

"  He  drew  a  blank  that  time,  I  confess.  It  was  a 
case  of  social  suicide  during  temporary  insanity." 


TWO  WORLDS  MEET.  153 

"  You  don't  go  near  the  Bayswater  house,  I  hope  ? " 

"  Oh,  Lord,  no !  "  Eonald  chuckled.  "  I  shouldn't  be 
likely  to  find  him  there.  You  forget  that  I  really  want 
to  see  him." 

"Will  you  believe  that  the  woman  had  the  imperti- 
nence to  write  and  ask  me  for  money  the  other  day  ? " 

"  No !    That  was  average  cool." 

"  A  woman  I  never  saw,  and  of  whom  I  should  never 
have  heard  if  she  hadn't  entrapped  that  poor  fellow  into 
marrying  her.  I  put  the  note  in  the  fire.  If  she  writes 
again  she  shall  hear  a  piece  of  my  mind.  Apart  from  its 
being  a  begging  letter,  just  think  of  her  effrontery  in 
assuming  that  I  am  aware  of  her  existence !  " 

"There  is  a  child,  isn't  there?" 

A  slight  shadow  drifted  over  Enid's  face.  "  Ehoda's 
child,  yes.  I  had  meant  to  do  so  much  for  her,  but  of 
course  this  marriage  made  it  impossible." 

"  Of  course." 

"  Couldn't  you  ask  Fergus  for  the  money,  Konald  ? " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Fergus !  I  would  rather  go 
back  to  those  Jew  beasts,  and  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
not  to  do  that." 

"No;  don't  do  that.  I  wish  I  could  help  you;  but, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  am  rather  hard  up  myself.  Lucile 
is  turning  restive." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  You  don't  know  how  other  women 
treat  her.  Besides,  it  would  be  worth  Lucile's  while  to 
dress  you  for  nothing.  Order  a  new  gown,  and  she'll 
be  all  right." 

"  Well,"  said  Enid  reflectively,  "  I  might  do  even  that 
to  oblige  you.  But  I  can't  do  without  the  money  long, 
or  Fergus  will  find  out  that  I  have  lent  it." 

"Next  week  or  the  week  after,"  he  said  gratefully. 
"  You  are  a  regular  brick,  Enid.  Upon  my  soul,  I  be- 
lieve you  are  the  only  generous  woman  I  ever  met." 

She  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  And  now  I  am  sure  you  would  like  me  to  make  my- 
self scarce.  Hugh  is  dying  to  see  you." 

And  in  truth  Hugh  greeted  his  mother  with  an  affec- 
tion that  was  pretty  to  see.  Now  that  he  was,  as  he 
considered,  a  man,  he  had  ceased  to  take  her  beauty  as 


154  WINDYHAUGH. 

a  matter  of  course.  He  had  learned  that  a  little  beauty 
in  a  mother  goes  a  long  way,  that  it  is  one  of  the  things 
men  are  proud  of,  and  that  Enid  required  no  indulgence 
at  all. 

"  If  you  only  saw  the  frumps  some  of  the  fellows 
have  to  show !  "  he  confided  exultantly  to  Ronald.  "  The 
mater  never  turns  up  without  taking  the  trick." 

"  I  should  think  not  indeed." 

It  is  a  pity  Hugh  had  no  sisters.  He  would  have 
been  good  to  them  if  they  had  been  pretty  and  smart; 
and  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  that  a  daughter  of  Enid's 
could  have  proved  otherwise — unless,  like  Wilhelmina, 
she  had  been  a  "  throw-back."  Hugh  was  a  well-grown 
young  fellow,  but  his  face  resembled  his  Uncle  Ronald's 
more  than  it  did  his  father's.  Nature  had  repeated  that 
unfortunate  piece  of  economy  in  the  material  of  the  chin. 

"  Well,"  said  his  mother,  "  were  you  glad  to  come  and 
see  me?" 

"  Wasn't  I  just  ?  You've  no  notion  how  sick  one 
gets  of  swot-swot-swotting  in  that  beastly  den." 

"  Poor  boy !    Plucky  old  fellow !  " 

"  You'll  tip  me  a  fiver,  won't  you,  Mater,  when  I  go 
back?" 

Her  face  clouded.  "I  don't  see  how  I  can,  Hugh. 
I  have  so  many  claims  upon  me  just  now.  And  indeed 
I  don't  see  why  I  should.  Your  Uncle  Ronald  gives  you 
far  too  many  tips  as  it  is." 

"  Oh,  does  he  ?  Ronald  hasn't  been  so  overly  flush 
himself  of  late.  He  wants  me  to  drop  the  ' uncle'  now 
that  I  am  grown  up." 

"You  grown  up,  indeed!  Ronald  evidently  means 
to  put  Fergus  and  me  on  the  shelf." 

"  Couldn't  be  done,  Mater.  The  fellows  all  declare 
you  must  be  my  sister.  I'll  pass  you  off  for  my  daughter 
before  I've  done  with  you." 

"You  sauce-box!" 

"And  about  that  fiver?" 

"You  know  you  ought  to  be  above  asking  for  tips 
when  your  father  gives  you  so  good  an  allowance." 

Hugh  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Oh,  that's  comme 
$a!  I  have  known  fellows  that  had  more." 


TWO  WORLDS  MEET.  155 

"  Well,  we'll  see.  If  I  give  it  to  you,  you  must  work 
very  hard  when  you  go  back." 

He  heaved  a  long  sigh.  "I  do  work  hard,  Mater — 
you've  no  notion;  but  it's  such  beastly  grind;  and  some 
of  the  fellows  positively  enjoy  it !  " 

"  I  know.  Never  mind.  Beat  them  on  their  own 
ground,  Hugh." 

She  might  as  well  have  told  him  to  be  Czar  of  all  the 
Russias,  but  there  was  no  use  trying  to  explain  that  to 
the  feminine  mind. 

"  I  do  hope  I  shall  meet  Uncle  George  somewhere 
this  time,"  he  said,  willing  to  change  the  subject. 

"  Indeed,  I  hope  you  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  That's  your  little  mistake,  Mater — excuse  me.  I 
met  a  fellow  the  other  day — an  awfully  clever  chap — 
who  thinks  Uncle  George  a  regular  hero." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt.  I  should  think  there  are  lots  of 
young  men  to  whom  your  uncle  acts  the  part  of  hero." 

"But  this  one  isn't  that  kind.  He's  a  scholar;  not 
a  sad  dog  like  Ronald  and  me." 

Enid  suppressed  a  smile.  "  I  am  interested  to  hear 
how  the  sad  dog  met  the  scholar." 

"  Oh,  on  his  own  ground.  Old  Rollins  took  me  to 
hear  a  lecture  at  the  Royal  Institution.  Rigby  was 
there.  You  remember  Rigby  at  Eton  ?  He  said  he  had 
a  friend  with  him  who  would  be  glad  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Mr.  Galbraith's  nephew.  Brentwood  was 
the  friend's  name — Harley  Brentwood.  He's  got  a  rip- 
ping sister — classic  style.  As  soon  as  I  set  eyes  on  her, 
I  told  Rigby  I  should  be  glad  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  her  brother." 

"  You  think  a  great  deal  too  much  about  women, 
Hugh." 

"No,  I  don't,  Mother;  but  I  can't  help  seeing  the 
points  of  one  when  she  chances  to  come  my  way." 

"  And  how  did  young  Brentwood  meet  your  uncle  ? " 

"  Oh,  in  the  most  sensational  fashion.  It  seems  the 
Brentwoods  have  taken  a  little  place  opposite  Windy- 
haugh,  and  Rigby  and  Brentwood  undertook  to  row 
across.  They  got  into  a  current  or  something,  and  cap- 
sized. Enter  Uncle  George.  Limelight.  Rescue." 
11 


156  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  So  that  is  why  he  is  a  hero.  I  suppose  I  should 
call  him  one  too  if  he  had  saved  my  life." 

"  It  isn't  only  that.  Brentwood  thinks  Uncle  George 
no  end  plucky  and  cool ;  but  he  says  he  is  a  man  of  such 
culture  too,  and  so  kind.  Konald  says  it  is  all  perfectly 
true — there  is  nobody  like  Uncle  George ;  and  I  think  it 
is  a  great  swindle  that,  when  I  have  got  an  uncle  like 
that,  I  should  scarcely  know  him  by  sight." 

"  I  don't  wish  you  to  know  him,  Hugh.  And  now  it 
is  quite  time  we  were  dressing  for  dinner." 

Mr.  Dalrymple  entered  the  room  as  his  son  left  it. 
Unlike  his  wife,  he  had  aged  considerably  in  the  last  six 
years.  "  I  should  like  to  have  a  word  with  you,  Enid," 
he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  coldly.  "  Shall  I  ring  for  fresh 
tea?" 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  have  just  got  Arrowsmith's  bill. 
It  is  a  little  startling.  The  fact  is,  Enid,  we  shall  have 
to  pull  up.  I  don't  choose  to  live  on  the  brink  of  my 
income,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should.  We  must 
draw  in  a  little  all  round." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "How  can  I  draw  in 
when  everybody  tries  to  sponge  on  me  ? "  she  cried  im- 
pulsively. 

He  looked  up  quickly.,  "Who  has  been  trying  to 
sponge  on  you  ? — not  Ronald  ?  " 

"  Ronald! "  she  cried  contemptuously.  "  Is  it  likely? 
That  disgusting  smilax  woman  is  trying  to  get  money 
out  of  me;  and  yesterday  I  had  a  letter  from  a  man  at 
Queensmains — Mackintosh  or  Macintyre  or  something 
— who  wants  money  for  Wilhelmina.  It  seems  she  is 
getting  no  education  at  all." 

"  Did  you  refer  him  to  her  father  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  took  no  notice ;  but  he  said  he  had  re- 
ceived no  reply  to  a  letter  written  weeks  ago  to  her 
father." 

Fergus  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Of  course  you  will  let  Mrs.  Galbraith  alone,"  he 
said ;  "  but  I  confess  I  feel  a  little  unhappy  about  Wil- 
helmina. We  are  in  no  way  bound  to  do  anything  for 
her;  still  for  poor  Rhoda's  sake " 


TWO  WORLDS  MEET.  157 

"  It  is  no  use,  Fergus.  She  is  the  smilax  woman's 
child  now.  I  should  have  treated  her  almost  as  my  own 
daughter,  if  that  woman  had  not  inveigled  poor  George. 
It  is  a  wretched  sordid  business,  and  I  wash  my  hands 
of  the  whole  thing.  And  now  I  must  go  and  dress  for 
dinner." 

She  congratulated  herself  on  having  at  least  post- 
poned an  interview  that  promised  to  be  unpleasant. 

On  her  dressing  table  lay  an  unopened  letter  ad- 
dressed in  a  round  unformed  hand.  "  I  think  you  over- 
looked that  this  morning,  madam,"  said  Pearson  quietly. 

Enid  opened  it.  "  Well !  "  she  said.  "  So  this  is  the 
next  move,  is  it  ?  Listen,  Pearson — 

"'DEAR  AUNT  ENID:  I  want  very  much  to  see  you 
alone  please  for  a  few  minutes.  I  will  call  to-morrow 
evening  about  half-past  seven.  I  won't  give  my  name 
to  the  servant.  Your  affectionate  niece, 

"  '  WlLHELMINA   GALBRAITH.' 

"  So  the  smilax  creature  employs  a  tool  this  time — 
thinks  I  can't  decently  refuse  money  to  my  own  flesh 
and  blood.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ? " 

The  confidential  maid  was  too  discreet  to  commit 
herself. 

"  It  is  almost  half -past  seven  now,"  she  said. 

"  Rather  cool  to  fix  her  own  time  for  a  begging  inter- 
view. I  have  a  great  mind  not  to  see  her.  You  won't 
go,  of  course,  Pearson.  She  takes  her  chance  of  finding 
me  engaged." 

A  few  minutes  later  Wilhelmina  was  ushered  in. 
Enid  realized  for  the  first  time  on  seeing  her  that  the 
child  had  at  least  shown  some  tact  in  not  giving  her 
name. 

"  Well,  Wilhelmina,"  she  said  with  a  little  nod ;  "  you 
have  called  very  near  dinner-time,  but  Pearson  is  no- 
body, is  she?  You  don't  mind  her  doing  my  hair  while 
you  talk?" 

Wilhelmina  was  trembling  visibly,  and  her  voice 
shook  like  a  reed.  "  It  is  right  that  Pearson  should  be 
here,"  she  said. 


158  WINDYHAUGH. 

Then  there  fell  a  painful  silence.     Mrs.  Dalrymple 
was  determined  not  to  help  her  niece  out. 
,   "  I  hope  you  are  quite  well,  Aunt  Enid  ? " 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  was  the  dry  response ;  "  but  I 
don't  think  you  called  to  ask  me  that." 

"  No.  Aunt  Enid,  do  you  remember  your  visit  to 
Windyhaugh?" 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  it." 

Was  she  going  to  be  asked  at  this  distance  of  time 
to  pay  for  a  week's  board  ?  But  the  next  words  took  her 
breath  away.  She  little  guessed  the  morbid  anguish  of 
which  they  were  the  outcome. 

"  You  gave  me  some  eau  de  Cologne  on  my  handker- 
chief one  day.  I  liked  it  very  much,  and  afterwards  I 
went  to  your  room  and  took  some  more.  The  bottle 
slipped  out  of  my  hand,  and  I  was  afraid  to  tell  you,  so 
I  filled  it  up  with  water.  Pearson  gave  me  a  chance  to 
confess,  but  I  told  a  lie." 

Mrs.  Dalrymple  did  not  speak,  and  the  child  rose  to 
her  feet.  "  That's  all,"  she  said.  "  I  wanted  to  tell  you." 

Enid  raised  her  hand  to  put  Pearson  aside,  and 
turned  to  look  at  her  niece.  If  this  was  a  bid  for  money, 
it  was  a  very  curious  and  original  one.  Or  was  the 
child  out  of  her  senses? 

"  What  I  want  to  know,"  she  said  almost  sharply,  "  is 
what  has  induced  you  to  come  and  tell  me  this  ? " 

Wilhelmina  tugged  at  her  hands  in  the  old  fashion  of 
her  childhood.  Her  mind  was  strung  to  confession,  and 
she  was  far  too  preoccupied  to  remember  that  it  is  scarce- 
ly permissible  for  a  young  girl  to  produce  a  social  discord 
by  intruding  on  her  elders  a  phrase  in  quite  a  different 
key  from  that  of  their  own  mood.  She  did  not  realize 
that,  if  her  aunt  chose  to  ask  questions,  she  was  only 
bound  to  answer  them  conventionally.  Her  one  concern 
was  to  find  a  reply  that  was  true  without  being  too  pain- 
fully personal,  and  this  meant  a  moral  effort  almost 
greater  than  that  involved  in  the  original  confession. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  these  things,"  she  said 
awkwardly.  "I  must  keep  my  hands  clean.  I  don't 
want  the  lowness  of  the  gates  to  keep  out  the  King  of 
Glory." 


TWO  WORLDS  MEET.  159 

Enid  started.  A  conventional  expression  of  religion 
would  have  disgusted  her.  This  quaint  half  comprehen- 
sible trope  struck  her  as  weird  and  uncanny.  She  did 
not  half  believe  in  the  child  even  now;  but,  if  money 
would  bring  her  down — or  up — to  the  plane  of  common 
humanity,  she  was  quite  prepared  to  offer  it. 

While  she  was  musing,  Wilhelmina  made  a  move- 
ment towards  the  door.  She  did  not  want  her  aunt's 
forgiveness;  she  quite  realized  that  the  old  injury  was 
too  trivial  for  that;  she  only  wanted  to  clear  her  own 
soul. 

"  May  I  go  now  ? "  she  said  shyly. 

Why  not  put  her  to  the  test  ?  "  Certainly,"  said  Enid 
quietly,  "  if  you  have  nothing  more  to  say.  .  .  .  Vil- 
ma!"  she  called  a  moment  later;  but  the  child  did  not 
or  would  not  hear.  Like  a  hunted  hare  she  had  flown 
down  the  brilliant  staircase,  and  out  into  the  darkness 
of  the  streets. 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  after  she  had  gone. 

"  Well,  Pearson !  "  said  Mrs.  Dalrymple  at  length. 

Pearson,  too,  was  looking  rather  white.  She  had  al- 
ways thought  of  the  eau  de  Cologne  episode  in  connec- 
tion with  Wilhelmina,  and  the  denouement  impressed 
her. 

"  I  hope  there  is  nothing  wrong  with  the  child,"  said 
Enid  uneasily.  "  What  was  that  she  said  about  the 
gates  and  the  King  of  Glory  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  had  something  like  it  in  the  Psalms  on 
Sunday,  madam.  Let  me  see;  it  would  be  the  5th  day 
of  the  month.  I  can  easily  find  it." 

Enid  shivered.  "  No,  no,"  she  said.  "  It  is  nearly 
dinner-time.  Make  haste  and  finish  my  hair.  I  will 
speak  to  Mr.  Dalrymple  about  the  child.  We  had  ar- 
ranged to  do  something  for  her  in  any  case." 


160  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

REQUIESCAT. 

WHEN  Fergus  Dalrymple  called  at  the  Bayswater 
house  next  day,  he  was  rather  taken  aback  to  find  an 
ambulance  van  at  the  door.  A  nurse  on  the  steps  was 
administering  a  last  word  of  comfort  to  a  pathetic-look- 
ing girl. 

"  Now  don't  you  take  on,"  she  said  kindly.  "  We'll 
be  very  good  to  her,  and  when  you  come  to  see  her  to- 
morrow afternoon,  you'll  wish  you  were  there  your- 
self." 

Mr.  Dalrymple  waited  till  the  van  drove  off,  and  then 
ascended  the  steps.  "  I  called  to  see  Miss  Galbraith," 
he  said. 

"  I  am  Wilhelmina,"  said  the  child  wondering. 
"  Will  you  come  in  ? "  She  decided  that  this  must  be 
one  of  her  father's  grand  friends. 

Her  sorrow  lent  her  a  little  air  of  dignity,  but  her 
eyes  were  red  with  crying,  and  her  hands  were  red  with 
honest  hard  work.  She  belonged  to  a  class  of  women 
that  lay  quite  outside  Fergus  Dalrymple's  somewhat  ex- 
tensive range. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  had  illness  in  the  house,"  he 
said  kindly. 

She  bit  her  lip,  but  failed  to  keep  back  a  fresh  cloud 
of  tears.  "  My  stepmother,"  she  replied.  "  She  wouldn't 
let  me  fetch  a  doctor  till  this  morning.  He  said  there 
was  no  use  in  our  trying  to  nurse  her  here.  She  has  had 
pleurisy  for  some  time,  and  her  heart  is  very  weak." 

"  I  am  sure  she  is  very  wise  to  go  to  hospital,"  he 
said  cheerily.  "  They  manage  these  places  so  well  now- 
a-days.  If  I  was  ill,  I  should  like  to  go  to  hospital 
myself." 

Illness,  as  it  chanced,  for  Mr.  Dalrymple,  was  a  thing 
far  off  and  only  dimly  apprehended. 

"  And  now,"  he  proceeded,  relieved  to  find  his  task 
rendered  so  easy,  "  your  Aunt  Enid  and  I  want  you  to 


REQUIESCAT.  161 

go  right  away  from  here  to  school.  You  would  like 
that,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"You  are ?" 

He  hesitated.     "  Your  Uncle  Fergus,  my  dear." 

An  unconscious  smile  of  real  interest  played  over  her 
face  as  she  regarded  him  frankly.  She  had  often  won- 
dered what  her  Uncle  Fergus  was  like.  Then  a  sudden 
fear  that  he  had  come  to  talk  of  the  painful  episode  of 
last  night  turned  her  heart  sick. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said ;  "  but  of  course  I 
can't  go.  We  have  got  this  house  on  our  hands,  and  we 
have  two  lodgers  upstairs." 

He  looked  aghast.  "  But  you  are  a  great  deal  too 
young  to  have  the  management  of  servants." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  simply  with  a  faint  blush.  "  We 
have  no  servants  just  now." 

He  was  far  too  kindly  a  gentleman  to  look  at  her 
hands,  but  for  a  few  moments  he  saw  nothing  else. 
Poor  Rhoda !  Poor,  poor  Rhoda ! 

"  Surely,"  he  said,  "  under  the  circumstances,  these 
— these  people  will  have  the  decency  to  leave  at  once." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not !  "  she  cried  in  genuine  distress. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said  kindly,  "  why  should  you 
take  the  world  on  your  shoulders?  You  must  not  be 
morbid.  You  must  remember  that  Mrs. — Mrs.  Galbraith 
is  not  your  mother." 

Wilhelmina's  face  hardened.  "  My  father  married 
her,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I  couldn't  leave  her.  Besides 
— she  is  all  I've  got." 

She  looked  so  near  tears  again  that  he  took  alarm. 

"Is  there  anything  you  would  like  me  to  do  for 
you  ? "  he  said,  rising  as  he  spoke. 

She  blushed  deeply.  "I  don't  think  so,  unless — 
unless  you  could  find  my  father.  He  ought  to  know." 

"  Of  course  he  ought !  And,  if  he  is  to  be  found — 
I'll  undertake  to  find  him." 

Thankful  to  have  a  definite  course  of  action  before 
him,  he  hastened  out  of  the  house,  and  his  hansom  was 
bowling  along  the  Edgware  Road  before  he  remembered 
that  he  had  meant  to  give  Wilhelmina  a  five  pound  note. 

"  No  matter,"  he  said  to  himself.     "  There  is  no  use 


162  WINDYHAUGH. 

tinkering  at  that  God-forsaken  establishment.     We  will 
send  her  to  school  in  spite  of  herself." 

A  few  weeks  after  her  admission  to  hospital,  Mrs. 
Galbraith  died.  Both  medicine  and  surgery  did  much 
to  relieve  her  symptoms;  but  at  this  stage  they  could 
not  give  her  the  stamina  to  fight  disease.  Mercifully, 
she  was  one  of  those  to  whom  death  on  the  whole  comes 
easy.  She  considered  that  she  had  always  been  a  good 
woman,  as  women  go;  and  she  readily  accepted  the 
teaching  of  the  clergyman,  and  attuned  her  mind  to  the 
prospect  of  eternal  peace  and  joy.  She  recognized  that 
life  had  given  her  much  that  was  good,  if  it  had  given 
her  evil  also ;  and  her  last  (Jays  were  brightened  by  fre- 
quent visits  from  her  husband.  She  almost  ignored  Wil- 
helmina  in  her  joy  at  seeing  him  again.  He  made  no 
reference  to  her  approaching  death,  but  she  found  both 
comfort  and  fellowship  in  his  quiet  suggestion  of  "  You 
to-day,  I  to-morrow ; "  and  he  listened  with  grave  re- 
spect when  she  urged  him  to  "  follow  her."  He  had  a 
curious  feeling  that  he  had  expected  all  this  from  the 
moment  he  first  met  her  seven  years  before. 

And  so  she  slipped  quietly  away. 

Truly  Enid  had  well  named  her  the  smilax  woman! 
Was  she  not  born  to  look  fragile  and  charming — while 
she  clung  to  a  firm  support  in  the  sunshine?  Requiescat. 


CHAPTEK  XXIV. 

A   NEW  DEVELOPMENT. 

"  I  CALL  it  simple  spite,"  said  the  leading  girl.  "  If 
it  had  been  small-pox,  or  a  broken  leg,  or  ery — ery — 
what  you  may  call — but  mumps!  It  is  too  ridiculous." 

They  were  out  on  the  croquet  lawn,  and  the  colonial 
brunette  seated  herself  on  one  of  the  battered  posts  with 
her  arms  on  her  knees.  Her  dark  hair  fell  in  a  cloud 
about  her  shoulders.  "  It  will  be  a  wonder  if  it  doesn't 


A  NEW  DEVELOPMENT.  163 

go  the  round  of  the  school  now,"  she  observed  pessimis- 
tically. 

"  Do  not  be  silly !    What  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

The  dark  head  waved  despondently  from  side  to  side. 
"We'll  never  get  anyone  like  Miss  Smith.  Her  cheek 
was  sublime " 

A  peal  of  laughter  greeted  this  unconscious  sally. 

"  Is,  you  mean,"  said  some  one,  inflating  her  own 
cheeks  to  indicate  the  predominant  symptom  of  the  com- 
plaint from  which  the  invalid  was  suffering. 

But  the  brunette  went  on  undisturbed.  " and 

her  rosy  face  and  snub  nose  were  worth  a  fortune." 

"  Miss  Smith  is  pretty,"  said  a  quiet-looking  girl, 
nicknamed  "  the  quakeress." 

The  brunette  rose  from  her  post,  drew  herself  up, 
and  knocked  a  ball  idly  across  the  lawn  with  her  mallet. 
"  Did  I  say  she  wasn't  ? "  Then  she  turned  to  the  ele- 
gant person  who  had  opened  the  conversation.  "  What 
about  Miss  Galbraith  ?  " 

"  Miss  Galbraith  ?     She  is  too  lean  and  lanky." 

"  She  is  not  half  so  lean  and  lanky  as  she  was." 

"  And  stupid." 

"  You  say  that  because  she  had  never  heard  of  Peter 
the  Hermit.  You  home  folks  need  a  year  in  the  colony 
to  teach  you  what  stupidity  means.  I  say  Miss  Gal- 
braith has  spunk.  Besides  nobody  else  has  memory 
enough  to  learn  the  part  in  the  time.  She  knows  six 
hundred  dates  by  heart  already." 

"  Monsieur  says  her  French  accent  is  the  best  in  the 
school,"  said  the  quakeress.  Unlike  that  of  the  brunette, 
her  championship  lost  a  good  deal  of  its  value  by  being 
exercised  universally  and  on  principle. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  an  accent  when  you  don't  know 
your  verbs  ?  "  enquired  the  leading  girl.  She  seated  her- 
self on  the  bank  that  enclosed  the  lawn.  "  Fetch  Miss 
Galbraith,"  she  said. 

Of  course  some  one  ran  to  do  her  bidding.  A  girls' 
school  is  the  place  par  excellence  where  human  beings 
are  taken  at  their  own  valuation. 

Wilhelmina  was  soon  discovered  poring  over  her 
books  in  the  shade  of  an  old  lime  tree.  If  even  a  school- 


164:  WINDYHAUGH. 

fellow  had  noted  the  change  in  her,  an  observant  eye 
would  have  been  struck  by  it  still  more.  The  drawn 
look  of  anxiety  had  left  her  face,  and  one  could  see  at  a 
glance  that  a  stream  of  fresh  sweet  blood  was  coursing 
through  her  veins.  The  effect  from  a  physical  point  of 
view  was  as  when  a  light  is  held  behind  an  alabaster  col- 
umn. Oh,  the  sheer  beauty  of  life,  sheer  youth,  sheer 
health ! 

"  Miss  Galbraith,"  said  the  leading  girl  serenely,  "  we 
want  you  to  take  Miss  Smith's  part  in  the  play." 

Something  of  the  old  look  returned  to  Wilhelmina's 
face.  "  Oh,  I  can't !  "  she  cried  terrified. 

The  leading  girl  turned  to  the  brunette.  "  I  thought 
you  said  she  had  spunk." 

The  brunette  was  swaying  herself  and  her  mallet  to 
and  fro.  At  the  present  stage  of  affairs  she  declined  to 
commit  herself  either  way. 

"  You  see  I  have  never  done  anything  of  the  kind  be- 
fore  "  said  Wilhelmina.  She  did  not  reckon  the  dra- 
matic Sunday  schools  and  funerals  as  something  of  the 
kind. 

"  Then  you  should  be  very  grateful  for  the  chance  of 
beginning  now." 

" and  I  know  I  should  fail." 

"Fail  then.  If  you  are  word  perfect,  and  walk 
through  the  part,  the  rest  of  us  will  undertake  to  make 
it  go."  The  speaker  naturally  considered  her  own  ren- 
dering of  the  principal  role  sufficient  of  itself  to  ensure 
the  success  of  the  piece. 

Wilhelmina  looked  very  unhappy.  To  tell  the  honest 
truth,  there  were  several  parts  in  the  play  which  she  had 
often  imagined  herself  taking  with  great  effect;  but  the 
one  in  question  was — or  so  she  fancied — utterly  anti- 
pathetic— a  sort  of  saucy  soubrette  part  in  which  the  ac- 
tress must  be  content  to  forego  her  dignity  wholly. 

"  It  is  a  sacrifice,  isn't  it  ? "  said  the  Quakeress  sym- 
pathetically. 

"  It  is." 

"But  you  see  you  must  sacrifice  either  yourself  or 
the  others.  You  know  nobody  else  could  learn  it  in 
time." 


A  NEW  DEVELOPMENT.  165 

Wilhelmina  coloured.  Her  religious  life  was  by  no 
means  in  flood  tide  just  now,  but  this  was  a  remark  tbat 
could  not  fail  to  have  effect. 

The  leading  girl  rose.  "Give  her  the  book,  some- 
body," she  said.  "Rehearsal  to-morrow,  Miss  Gal- 
braith ;  "  and,  taking  the  arm  of  the  brunette,  she  strolled 
away. 

Wilhelmina  had  been  very  ill  after  her  stepmother's 
death.  There  was  no  organic  disease — only  the  severe 
anaemia  which  so  often  befalls  girls  of  her  age;  and  it 
must  be  admitted  that  she  had  more  excuse  for  it  than 
most.  The  doctor  had  ordered  her  to  the  seaside,  and, 
as  Windyhaugh  was  again  let,  Mr.  Galbraith  had  sent 
her  in  Ann's  charge  to  quiet  lodgings  in  an  unknown 
place  on  the  coast.  Here  she  read  many  religious  books 
of  a  sentimental  kind,  and  toyed  with  the  idea  of  early 
death.  At  this  particular  period  of  her  life,  "  the  shad- 
ow feared  by  man  "  had  few  terrors  for  her,  but  the  rea- 
sons for  this  were  mainly  physiological. 

Her  father  came  to  see  her  one  day,  and  found  her 
reading  a  large  Bible,  flanked  by  a  substantial  pile  of 
sermons,  tracts,  and  booklets.  A  curious  little  smile 
flitted  across  his  face  as  he  turned  over  the  pages  of  one 
of  these.  Was  he  thinking  of  a  time  when  he  too  had 
passed  that  way? 

"Is  this  to  be  the  end,  little  Vilma?"  he  said  re- 
flectively. 

She  thought  he  was  referring  to  her  death,  but  he  had 
something  very  different  in  mind.  He  had  little  affec- 
tion for  her,  and  yet  he  was  disappointed  that  a  daugh- 
ter of  his  should  be  turning  out  so  poor  and  bloodless  a 
thing.  "  At  least  I  left  her  a  free  hand,"  he  used  to  say, 
"  and  I  only  wish  my  parents  had  done  as  much  for 
me."  He  forgot  that  when  he  married  the  "  smilax 
woman,"  he  was  scarcely  leaving  his  daughter  a  free 
hand.  He  was  quite  catholic  enough  to  appreciate  re- 
ligion, but  not  when  it  gave  the  impression  of  being 
simply  one  of  a  train  of  physical  symptoms. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  months  Wilhelmina  showed  so 
little  improvement  that  the  doctor  changed  his  tactics, 


166  WINDYHAUGH. 

and  sent  her  to  a  school,  recommended  by  Mrs.  Carlton, 
on  the  Yorkshire  moors.  It  was  not  a  first-class  estab- 
lishment at  all;  but,  partly  for  that  reason,  it  just 
chanced  to  suit  the  patient.  The  headmistress  was  a 
woman  of  no  exceptional  culture ;  but  she  was  kind  and 
sensible,  and  her  main  object  was  to  make  her  girls 
healthy  and  happy.  None  of  the  pupils  belonged  to 
really  smart  families,  and  many  were  the  daughters  of ' 
Anglo-Indians  of  moderate  means. 

When  Wilhelmina  first  arrived,  she  marvelled,  with 
the  tolerant  superiority  of  a  child  of  light,  at  the  impor- 
tance the  others  attached  to  their  meals.  Before  she  had 
been  at  the  school  a  month,  she  was  munching  her  bread 
and  butter  with  the  best,  and  rejoicing  as  much  as  any- 
one at  the  appearance  of  a  popular  pudding. 

Regaining  thus  her  grip  of  life,  she  began  to  feel  that 
earthly  ideals  and  ambitions  are  not  such  utter  dross  as 
she  had  supposed.  What  had  been  shadow  took  on  sub- 
stance :  what  had  been  substance  faded — alas  ? — to  shad- 
ow. She  felt  keenly  her  own  want  of  education,  and 
worked  hard  to  supply  her  deficiencies.  These  indeed 
were  not  so  glaring  as  might  have  been  supposed.  In 
an  average  girls'  school  of  those  days  it  was  not  easy  to 
be  remarkable  for  mere  ignorance. 

When  the  hour  of  the  rehearsal  arrived,  she  was  al- 
most sick  with  nervousness;  and  yet  she  would  have 
been  sorry  to  withdraw.  She  was  only  asked  to  be  word- 
perfect — to  "  walk  through  the  part."  She  would  do 
something  more:  she  would  surpass  even  Miss  Smith. 
The  ambition  that  had  kept  her  awake  in  the  old  days, 
repeating  French  vowel  sounds  that  she  might  astonish 
Mademoiselle  by  her  proficiency,  was  fairly  fired  now; 
and  she  meant  to  astonish  them  all. 

Of  course  she  began  badly.  Indeed  she  found  it  as 
much  as  she  could  do  to  repeat  like  a  lesson  the  words 
that  fell  to  her  share.  Presently  she  saw  a  meaning 
glance  pass  between  the  leading  girl  and  the  brunette, 
and  she  felt  that  she  hated  them  both.  Stung  to  des- 
peration, she  flashed  back  a  pert  retort  with  a  vivacity 
that  surprised  herself. 

"Brava!"  cried  the  English  master  who  had  come 


A  NEW  DEVELOPMENT.  167 

unnoticed  into  the  room  to  see  how  his  pupils  were  get- 
ting on. 

The  "  Brava! "  did  it.  "  Behold  how  great  a  flame  a 
little  fire  kindleth."  From  that  moment  Wilhelmina 
had  her  cue.  If  audacity  was  what  they  wanted,  audac- 
ity they  should  have.  She  felt  that  she  had  struck  a 
new  and  unsuspected  vein  of  ore  in  her  own  character 
and  disposition. 

On  the  evening  of  the  performance  several  of  her 
school-fellows  told  her  she  was  looking  pretty,  and  that 
put  the  crowning  touch  to  her  new-found  self-confidence. 
Why  after  all  should  she  not  be  like  other  girls,  and  beat 
them,  if  she  could,  on  their  own  ground? 

All  day  the  pupils  had  been  busy  decorating  the  large 
schoolroom  with  flowers  and  bracken,  and  evening 
brought  quite  a  gay  assemblage  of  local  people  to  see  the 
play. 

It  was  a  very  simple  one,  and,  thanks  to  the  whole- 
some outdoor  life  that  hardened  the  nerve  of  the  players, 
it  was  acted  with  more  effect  than  might  have  been  the 
case  in  a  more  pretentious  school.  Wilhelmina's  part 
was  an  attractive  one  in  its  way,  and  she  certainly  made 
the  most  of  it.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  really 
let  herself  go,  tossing  back  her  fine  hair — which  the 
dresser  had  transformed  into  a  magnificent  aureole — 
and  dropping  mock  curtseys  with  an  abandon  that  sur- 
prised herself,  and  a  kitten-like  grace  that  surprised 
everyone  else.  The  dancing-master  had  appreciated  her 
possibilities  from  the  first,  and  was  proud  to  see  his  ex- 
pectations fulfilled. 

When  in  due  course  she  was  called  before  the  cur- 
tain, she  received  as  hearty  an  ovation  as  the  leading  girl 
herself,  and  a  bouquet  was  thrown  at  her  feet.  For  a 
moment  she  seemed  uncertain  what  to  do;  then  she 
picked  it  up,  curtseyed,  smiled  a  shy  childlike  smile  that 
was  very  fascinating — and  made  her  escape. 

Poor  little  Wilhelmina!  She  had  such  long  arrears 
to  make  up.  It  is  n6  wonder  if  this  draught  of  trump- 
ery success  intoxicated  her.  As  on  the  occasion  of  her 
grandmother's  death,  and  of  her  own  arrival  in  Harley 
Street,  so  now  once  more  she  really  was  a  personage. 


168  WINDYHAUGH. 

The  play  was  followed  by  a  dance,  and  for  an  hour  or 
two  she  received  as  much  attention  as  she  could  wish. 
"  They  say  she  never  acted  before."  "  Quite  a  remark- 
able gift !  "  "  And  such  an  attractive  face  too,"  she 
heard  people  say.  Then  a  series  of  black-coated  youths 
must  needs  be  introduced,  and,  although  this  was 
an  honour  that  was  more  terrifying  than  pleasant,  Wil- 
helmina  was  too  conscious  of  its  importance  not  to  make 
the  most  of  it.  Hitherto  young  men  had  existed  for 
her  only  in  the  conversation  of  the  leading  girl  and  the 
brunette,  who  were  older  than  herself;  and,  now  that 
masculine  homage  was  offered  so  unexpectedly,  she  had 
no  idea  how  to  take  it.  Almost  without  her  own  will, 
she  found  herself  still  acting  the  part  she  had  taken  in 
the  play,  and  acting  it  with  such  effect  that  she  began  to 
wonder  whether  this  were  not  after  all  her  true  character. 

But  the  crowning  triumph  was  still  to  come. 

"  Miss  Galbraith,"  said  the  leading  girl  affectionately, 
"  my  father  would  like  to  make  your  acquaintance.  He 
says  he  hopes  you  will  spend  a  week  with  us  during  the 
holidays  as  you  are  not  going  home." 

The  grey  dormitory  struck  chill  on  all  this  glowing 
life.  Wilhelmina  slipped  her  arm  into  that  of  the  quak- 
eress.  "  Well,"  she  said,  athirst  for  more  admiration. 
"  You  told  me  to  do  it.  Did  I  do  it  well? " 

But  the  quakeress  was  scared.  A  few  months  before, 
Wilhelmina's  genuine  devotion  had  been  at  once  an  in- 
spiration and  a  reproach  to  her,  and  now 

"What  are  you,  Wilhelmina?"  she  said. 


CHAPTEK  XXV. 

LOOKING    FORWARD. 


THE  second  year  of  Wilhelmina's  school  life  was 
drawing  to  a  close. 

It  was  evening,  and  she  was  swaying  idly  to  and  fro 
as  she  leaned  against  the  bough  of  an  old  apple  tree  in 


LOOKING  FORWARD.  169 

the  orchard.  An  untrimmed  garden  hat  framed  her  face 
like  an  aureole,  and  her  whole  attitude  and  expression 
suggested  a  picture  of  springtime. 

The  Quakeress  had  had  much  cause  to  mourn  over  her 
friend  in  the  months  that  had  come  and  gone  since  the 
eventful  night  of  the  play.  Wilhelmina  still  read  her 
Bible,  and  did  not  refuse  to  talk  of  religion  when  the 
subject  was  introduced;  but  she  declined  to  let  the  con- 
versation take  a  personal  turn,  and  there  was  no  deny- 
ing the  fact  that  the  old  fervour,  the  genuine  ring,  was 
gone.  In  truth  she  was  a  wonder  to  herself  at  this  time. 
She  did  not  blink  the  fact  that  she  was  a  backslider,  and 
she  was  well  aware  that  a  day  of  reckoning  lay  some- 
where in  the  future.  In  church  on  Sunday  evening, 
when  the  mellow  shafts  of  light  made  their  level  way  be- 
tween the  columns,  and  the  notes  of  the  organ  rose  and 
fell  in  plaintive  harmony,  the  tears  would  rush  to  her 
eyes,  and  an  impulsive  prayer  for  "reconciliation"  would 
well  up  in  her  heart.  She  did  really  not  expect  an  an- 
swer to  this.  She  had  long  since  proved  the  truth  of 
Mr.  Darsie's  remark  that  "  the  Lord's  no'  in  sic  a  hurry 
to  answer  our  prayers  even  when  they're  wiselike,"  and 
she  looked  for  no  royal  road  back  from  the  arbour  of 
ease.  She  felt  that  she  must  be  willing  to  exercise  vio- 
lence, to  wrestle  all  night,  if  she  would  repossess  the 
Kingdom,  rediscover  the  Name,  and  as  yet  she  did  not 
feel  equal  to  the  sacrifice  this  involved.  Of  a  religion 
devoid  of  morbidity  she  had  no  conception  at  all.  The 
eternal  choice  was  painted  for  her  in  the  most  uncompro- 
mising colours.  On  the  one  side,  sunshine,  expansion, 
dalliance,  admiration:  on  the  other,  self-sacrifice,  nar- 
rowness— God.  She  dared  not  face  the  last  word:  it 
was  so  irresistible,  so  conclusive :  she  felt  that  sooner  or 
later  she  must  yield  to  its  unswerving  force :  and  yet 

Poor  Wilhelmina !  It  is  little  wonder  if  she  availed 
herself  of  her  new-found  health  and  strength  to  post- 
pone the  day  of  decision — to  throw  the  whole  subject  into 
the  background  of  her  mind. 

Meanwhile  her  physical  nature  flourished  and  bloomed 
under  the  pagan  reaction.  There  was  in  her  aspect  that 
look  of  dewy  freshness,  of  morning  brightness,  that  is 


170  WINDYHAUGH. 

the  greatest  beauty  a  girl  of  her  age  can  possess.  The 
clear  limpid  eyes  seemed  to  be  looking  out  with  wistful 
surprise  on  a  world  that  was  proving  itself  unexpectedly 
gracious  and  kind. 

She  had  taken  part  in  many  plays  since  that  eventful 
evening.  She  belonged  now  to  what  can  best  be  described 
as  the  society  clique  in  the  school — to  the  little  circle  of 
girls  who  had  friends  and  acquaintances  in  the  pretty 
hillside  town,  who  were  invited  to  picnics  and  croquet 
parties  for  their  own  sake,  and  not  merely  out  of  kind- 
ness. This  too,  unfortunately,  was  the  circle  of  which 
the  leading  members  were  busy  weaving  "  pasts "  for 
themselves,  making  conquests,  suffering  disappoint- 
ments, passing  through  phases,  emotions,  episodes  of 
divers  kinds,  on  a  stage  so  small  as  to  be  invisible  to  the 
eye  of  the  ordinary  observer.  A  pleasant  accost  in  the 
church  porch;  a  little  special  attention  at  an  evening 
party;  the  gift  of  a  rose,  a  song,  a  book;  the  arrival 
perhaps  of  a  valentine  or  love  lyric  by  post — these  were 
the  slender  pegs  on  which  many  a  romance  was  hung. 
Of  course  this  whole  cult  of  the  sentimental  was  silly, 
and  not  very  high-class;  but,  as  regarded  Wilhelmina 
and  a  number  of  the  others,  it  was  quite  harmless.  It 
was  simply  a  game,  like  any  other,  and  involved  no  ex- 
penditure of  emotion  peculiar  to  itself.  If  one  was 
handicapped  by  a  meagre  wardrobe  and  scant  pin-money, 
it  was  amusing  to  succeed  now  and  then  in  a  competition 
where  elegance  and  smartness  were  important  qualifica- 
tions. That  was  all. 

The  schoolmistress  was  strolling  through  the  garden 
now  that  the  day's  work  was  done,  and  herself  unnoticed, 
she  paused  to  admire  the  swaying  aureoled  figure,  with 
its  canopy  of  apple-blossom  and  background  of  tender 
green.  Presently  she  went  forward  and  took  the  round- 
ed chin  in  her  hand. 

"  It  is  a  very  different  face  from  the  one  that  came  to 
me  two  years  ago,"  she  said  kindly. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Summers,  it  can't  be  half  so  different  as 
the  person  behind  it  is !  When  I  look  back  on  the  time 
before  I  came  here,  it  seems  like  a  hideous  dream.  How 


LOOKING  FORWARD. 


surprised  I  should  have  been  in  those  days  if  someone 
had  told  me  I  should  live  to  be  young  and  happy  like 
other  girls  !  " 

"  Poor  little  one  !  " 

The  lady  seated  herself  in  the  fork  of  a  gnarled  old 
tree,  and  looked  at  her  pupil  frankly.  She  had  never 
heard  in  any  detail  the  story  of  the  Bayswater  days. 
Wilhelmina  would  have  regretted  her  reticence  on  the 
subject  if  she  had  known  that  for  a  time  the  traditional 
unkind  stepmother  was  made  to  explain  much.  It  is 
perhaps  to  the  credit  of  Mrs.  Summers'  insight  that  she 
finally  rejected  this  theory  from  internal  evidence  alone. 
She  came  to  see  that  Wilhelmina's  sadness  and  collapse 
were  the  sadness  and  collapse  of  one  who  had  been  forced 
to  act,  and  had  not  merely  been  called  upon  to  suffer. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  when  you  leave  us  ?  " 
asked  the  schoolmistress. 

Wilhelmina's  face  became  a  shade  graver.  "  My  fa- 
ther says  he  is  making  Windyhaugh  his  headquarters, 
and  he  wants  me  to  keep  house  for  him." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  devoted  to  your  father  ?  " 

This  was  a  kindly  and  well-meant  feeler.  Mrs.  Sum- 
mers was  quite  aware  of  the  fact  that  she  could  count 
on  the  fingers  of  one  hand  the  letters  that  had  passed 
between  father  and  daughter  during  Wilhelmina's  resi- 
dence at  school. 

The  young  girl  hesitated.  "  I  don't  know  him  very 
well.  I  often  think  of  some  of  the  things  he  has  said 
to  me."  She  smiled.  "I  can't  fancy  him  at  Windy- 
haugh at  all." 

"Is  it  a  pretty  place?" 

"  I  think  so.  I  haven't  seen  it  since  I  was  a  child. 
It  was  full  of  mysterious  bogies  for  me  then.  I  think," 
she  continued  with  another  smile,  "  I  can  face  them 
now." 

"  You  look  as  if  you  could  face  most  things,  my  dear, 
and  you  mustn't  be  surprised  if  the  old  self  has  to  be 
faced  occasionally.  It  is  a  queer  creature  —  takes  itself 
off  so  definitely  that  we  forget  its  very  existence,  and 
then  reappears  as  naturally  as  if  it  had  been  there  all 
the  time.  I  wish  you  had  a  mother  to  take  care  of  you, 
12 


172  WINDYHAUGH. 

child.  You  must  be  very  sensible — live  a  great  deal  in 
the  open  air  and  keep  strong.  I  want  you  to  make  the 
best  of  yourself." 

"  I  mean  to."  Wilhelmina  was  in  a  glow  of  self-com- 
placency. She  could  see  that  her  schoolmistress  consid- 
ered her  a  very  attractive  girl.  She  might  well  have 
been  content  for  this,  for  Mrs.  Summers  was  not  a  de- 
monstrative woman;  but  the  old  whisper  of  the  fiends 
was  in  Wilhelmina's  ear — "  Im  Ganzen — haltet  euch  an 
Worte"  and  she  must  needs  strive  to  get  the  feeling  pre- 
cipitated in  words. 

"  Miss  Burnet " — she  referred  to  the  girl  known  as 
the  quakeress — "  thinks  I  have  degenerated  sadly." 

Mrs.  Summers  did  not  reply  at  once;  in  fact,  she 
seemed  uncertain  whether  to  reply  at  all.  Wilhelmina 
blushed  scarlet,  thinking  her  mistress  saw  through  her 
little  ruse ;  but  the  lady  was  too  well  accustomed  to  little 
ruses  to  pay  any  attention  to  them  as  such. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  meditatively,  "  you  must  make  up 
your  mind  what  you  really  mean  to  aim  at.  Your  popu- 
larity— your  little  bit  of  social  success — seems  delightful 
to  you  because  you  fancied  it  lay  out  of  reach;  but 
is  it  so  valuable  in  itself?  Is  it  the  best  thing?  Is  it 
not  a  thing  that  countless  women  attain  who  are  wanting 
in  something  you  have  got  ? " 

The  arrow,  well- winged  with  its  word  of  generous  ap- 
preciation, made  straight  for  its  mark.  Wilhelmina  had 
asked  for  a  stone,  and  had  received  bread. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  she  spoke. 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  that  to  me  before  ? "  she  asked 
timidly  at  last. 

The  mistress  rose  to  her  feet  with  a  smile.  "  You 
should  rather  ask  why  I  have  said  it  now, 

"  '  'Tis  an  awkward  thing  to  play  with  souls, 
And  matter  enough  to  save  one's  own.' 

Good-night,  little  girl,  good-night ! " 

The  weeks  flew  by  as  happy  weeks  will,  and  Wilhel- 
mina's last  night  at  school  came  round. 

A  few  months  before  she  had  been  promoted  to  a 


LOOKING  FORWARD.  173 

room  of  her  own — a  tiny  place  at  the  top  of  the  house — 
and  she  was  seated  there  now.  The  light  of  a  candle 
supplemented  the  faint  golden  afterglow,  and  revealed 
the  undried  tears  on  her  cheeks.  She  was  to  start  very 
early  next  morning  on  her  complicated  cross-country 
journey,  and  in  the  course  of  the  day  one  after  another 
of  her  school-fellows  had  shyly  seized  the  opportunity 
to  thrust  some  pathetic  keepsake  into  her  hand.  The 
Quakeress  had  shown  great  self-restraint  in  the  choice 
of  hers.  It  was  simply  a  blank  leather-covered  book,  on 
the  fly-leaf  of  which  was  inscribed,  "  W.  G.  from  J.  B." 
with  the  date.  The  giver  had  hesitated  long  whether  to 
add  a  text,  but  had  decided  in  the  negative.  Her  own 
diary  was  a  powerful  instrument  of  self-examination, 
and,  if  only  Wilhelmina  would  write  in  this,  she  had  no 
doubt  that  it  would  prove  the  same  for  her. 

Wilhelmina  stroked  the  leather  cover  lovingly  now, 
then  opened  the  book,  dipped  her  pen  in  the  ink,  and 
began. 

"  Well,  they  are  over — these  two  happy,  careless,  sel- 
fish, irreligious  years! 

"  I  don't  say  I  regret  them.  Why  should  not  I  too 
know  what  the  joys  of  this  life  mean  ?  How  kind  every- 
one has  been  to  me!  If  they  could  only  know  how  I 
bless  them  in  my  heart! 

"  And  now  I  am  Wilhelmina  Galbraith  again — Wil- 
helmina Galbraith  of  Windyhaugh.  I  must  gird  up  my 
loins,  and  'make  up  my  mind  what  I  really  mean  to 
aim  at.' " 

Here  she  paused,  and  pressed  a  sodden  handkerchief 
to  her  swollen  eyes.  It  was  some  time  before  she  took 
up  her  pen  again. 

"  1.  To  put  my  hand  once  more  to  the  plough." 

This  was  underlined  as  a  tribute  to  its  deep  spiritual 
significance. 

"  2.  To  make  Windyhaugh  a  cheerful  home  for  my 
father;  to  enter  (as  far  as  I  conscientiously  can)  into 
his  pursuits ;  and  to  read  the  kind  of  books  he  will  like 
to  talk  about." 

(Oh,  poor  lamb!) 

"  3.  To  find  out  Jane,  and  do  what  I  can  to  help  her. 


174:  WINDYHAUGH. 

How  I  have  neglected  her  all  these  years !  '  Neither  do 
I  condemn  thee.' 

11 4.  To  be  nice  to  old  Mr.  Darsie. 

"  5.  To  continue  my  education,  and  first  of  all  to 
finish  Sartor  Resartus :  to  take  an  interest  in  politics." 

She  tried  to  think  of  a  sixth  resolution  just  to  round 
the  numbers;  but  her  eyelids  were  growing  very  heavy, 
so  she  wrote  at  the  end — 

"  God  helping  me.  Amen ; "  and  so  betook  herself 
to  bed. 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 

A  TRANSFORMATION. 

WILHELMINA  did  not  read  during  the  journey  next 
day,  and  experience  had  not  yet  taught  her  to  economize 
her  emotions  by  forgetting  the  things  that  are  behind. 
The  things  that  were  before,  however,  received  their  due 
share  of  attention.  She  saw  Windyhaugh — big,  mysteri- 
ous, and  imposing,  as  it  lingered  in  the  memory  of  the 
child;  she  felt  the  gloom  of  the  shrubbery,  and  of  the 
old  divines  indoors;  and  she  pictured  her  father,  lan- 
guid, cultured,  melancholy,  vainly  striving  to  lounge  in 
her  grandmother's  high-backed  chair. 

To  this  scene  enter  Wilhelmina,  fresh  and  buoyant, 
with  a  fair  knowledge  of  cooking — had  she  not  learned 
the  trite  saying  concerning  the  way  to  men's  hearts? — 
and  some  skill  in  the  arrangement  of  flowers. 

At  this  point  in  her  vision  the  dreamer  broke  off  to 
recall  the  precise  recipe  for  a  cheese  souffle,  and,  having 
impressed  it  on  her  mind,  she  returned  with  a  glad  re- 
bound to  the  reign  of  romance. 

How  long,  how  mournful,  were  the  summer  evenings 
at  Windyhaugh!  How  they  played  on  one's  heart- 
strings like  the  wailing  note  of  a  violin !  In  winter  she 
could  picture  the  curtains  drawn,  and  herself  curled  up 
by  a  bright  wood  fire,  reading  Carlyle  or  Ruskin  to  her 
father;  but  how  should  she  exercise  the  weird  spirits  of 


A  TRANSFORMATION.  175 

a  summer  evening?  She  saw  herself  approach  the  old 
spinet,  and  charm  a  minuet  from  its  quavering  keys 
with  such  dignity  and  pathos  that  her  father  paused, 
cigar  in  hand,  at  the  ivied  window  to  listen;  but  this 
was  passing  beyond  the  bounds  of  legitimate  romance. 
She  was  well  aware  that  her  piano  had  little  in  common 
with  David's  harp.  Fortunately  she  did  at  least  read 
aloud  well.  The  accomplishment  was  a  poor  one,  no 
doubt,  but  everyone  said  it  was  hers. 

She  was  horrified  to  feel  some  slight  return  of  her  old 
shyness  and  gaucherie  now  that  the  meeting  with  her 
father  was  so  near.  Whatever  happened  she  must  not 
give  in  to  that.  Better  be  saucy,  forward,  even  auda- 
cious, than  shy.  In  a  dozen  different  ways  she  pictured 
the  meeting.  Would  he  be  kind  and  make  things  easy 
for  her? — or  would  he  be  gloomy,  mysterious,  far-off? 
"  In  any  case  my  business  is  to  make  him  happy,"  said 
Wilhelmina.  She  never  doubted  that  he  would  come  to 
Queensmains  to  meet  her.  Time  must  hang  very  heavy 
on  his  hands  at  Windyhaugh. 

It  was  a  golden  summer  evening.  The  station  was 
rather  an  attractive  one,  with  brilliant  hanging  flower- 
baskets  and  banks  trimly  laid  out  in  a  simple  carpet  de- 
sign. A  number  of  country  folk,  a  few  representatives 
of  the  country,  and  a  groom  in  top-boots  stood  on  the 
platform.  George  Galbraith's  unmistakable  figure  would 
have  towered  above  them  all — had  it  been  there. 

Wilhelmina  lifted  her  small  luggage  out  of  the  car- 
riage, and  walked  to  the  door  of  the  station  to  see 
whether  her  father  had  sent  a  fly. 

A  number  of  vehicles  were  waiting  there,  the  best 
place  having  been  secured  by  a  lady  who  was  driving  a 
smart  high  dog-cart.  Wilhelmina  did  not  even  look  at 
this  till  the  lady's  whip  fell  on  her  arm  with  a  soft  flick 
that  might  have  been  accidental. 

Then  she  gazed  in  amazement. 

"  Miss  Evelyn !  "  she  said. 

"  I  thought  it  must  be  Wilhelmina.  How  you  have 
improved !  I  sent  Charles  in  to  fetch  your  small  things. 
What  a  fool  he  is!" 

"  Charles  ?  "  said  Wilhelmina  bewildered. 


176  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  The  groom,  yes.  Didn't  you  see  a  creature  in  top- 
boots  ?  Just  tell  him,  will  you,  to  look  alive." 

The  modest  luggage  was  placed  behind,  and  the  high- 
spirited  horse  was  curveting  down  the  hill  before  Wil- 
helmina  ventured  another  question. 

"  Are  you  staying — here  ?  " 

"At  Windyhaugh — yes.  Didn't  you  know?  Your 
father  has  quite  a  houseful  of  visitors  just  now.  Colonel 
and  Mrs.  Brydon,  my  aunt  and  myself,  Mr.  Konald  Dal- 
rymple  and  your  cousin  Hugh." 

Wilhelmina  framed  and  rejected  a  dozen  questions 
before  she  said  quietly — 

"  I  can't  think  what  you  all  find  to  do." 

"  Oh,  you  know  your  father  added  a  billiard-room 
when  he  rebuilt  the  stables ;  and  none  of  us  happen  to  be 
difficile.  Mr.  Galbraith  has  an  extraordinary  gift  for 
bringing  the  right  people  together." 

There  was  no  reply.  Wilhelmina  did  not  ask  the  ac- 
tress where  her  father  had  got  the  money  for  all  this. 
Obviously  she  must  wait  and  let  the  information  come 
by  degrees. 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  come  and  meet  me," 
she  said. 

"  Oh,  I  love  bowling  along  these  level  roads,  and  Ox- 
ford is  a  dear.  Just  look  at  him !  " 

It  was  not  a  little  to  Miss  Evelyn's  credit  that,  al- 
though she  had  now  been  on  the  stage  for  the  best  part 
of  a  decade,  there  was  nothing  about  her  that  proclaimed, 
or  even  strongly  suggested,  the  actress.  The  sailor  hat 
and  well-cut  gown  might  have  been  worn  by  any  lady 
whose  purse  was  deep  enough  to  admit  of  such  effective 
simplicity. 

The  smiling  country  looked  its  best  in  the  mellow 
evening  light.  This  was  the  hour  when  the  level  rays 
of  the  sun  single  out  each  blade  of  grass  with  a  shaft  of 
light  and  a  trailing  shadow. 

And  so  Wilhelmina  came  back  to  Windyhaugh. 

Her  heart  beat  hard  as  they  drove  under  the  lime 
trees.  The  plantation  was  in  its  vesper  mood,  and  yet 
she  was  surprised  to  see  it  so  overgrown. 

"Is  Tail-o'-the-week  still  alive?"  she  asked. 


A  TRANSFORMATION.  177 

"Wtof* 

Miss  Evelyn  was  preoccupied  with  the  endeavour  to 
draw  up  in  an  impressive  fashion  before  the  door,  so 
Wilhelmina  did  not  repeat  the  question.  But  think  of 
a  Windyhaugh  that  knew  not  Tail-o'-the-week. 

A  smart  parlour  maid  opened  the  door  before  the 
groom  had  time  to  ring.  Wilhelmina  fancied  she  had 
seen  the  face  before,  and  a  moment  later  she  said  in 
amazement,  "  Jane  ?  " 

"Yes,  miss,  Jane,"  was  the  self-complacent  reply, 
"  and  delighted  to  welcome  you  back." 

There  was  a  note  of  familiarity  in  the  greeting  that 
chilled  the  young  girl.  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee," 
indeed ! 

"  The  gentlemen  are  round  at  the  stables,"  continued 
the  maid.  "  They'll  be  here  in  a  minute." 

Already  their  voices  were  heard  approaching,  but 
Miss  Evelyn  looked  kindly  at  the  travel-worn  figure. 
She  knew  how  that  dusty  face  would  affect  George  Gal- 
braith. 

"  Don't  wait,"  she  said  in  an  undertone.  "  Dinner 
will  be  ready  in  half  an  hour." 

Wilhelmina  was  thankful  to  turn  and  fly.  She  found 
an  elderly  woman  preparing  a  bath  in  the  one-time 
nursery. 

"Ann!"  cried  Wilhelmina;  and  she  flung  her  arms 
round  the  old  friend's  neck. 

"  Now,  missy,  don't  cry"  said  Ann  severely,  untwin- 
ing the  arms,  and  setting  her  own  face  hard  to  restrain 
the  quiver  of  its  muscles.  "  You've  got  the  whole  night 
before  you  for  that.  You're  no'  wantin'  to  go  doun  to 
dinner  red-eyed,  an'  a'  the  folk  there  ? " 

Wilhelmina  nodded  gratefully  and  gulped  down  the 
tears.  "You'll  come  and  sit  with  me,  won't  you,"  she 
said,  "  when  I  come  up  to  bed  ?  " 

"  I  will  that." 

When  Wilhelmina's  bath  was  over  Miss  Evelyn 
came  in. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  wear  ? "  she  asked.  "  Oh, 
yes,  that  white  frock  will  do  very  well." 

"  Why,  that  is  the  very  best  thing  I've  got." 


178  WINDYHAUGH. 

"Never  mind.  Wear  it.  We'll  soon  run  you  up 
something  new.  At  your  age  dress  costs  nothing." 

She  adjusted  the  soft  white  sash,  and  pinned  an  ex- 
quisite spray  of  wild  roses  on  the  child's  shoulder. 

"  There !  "  she  said.  "  Bear  in  mind  that  you  are 
looking  pretty — really  pretty." 

"You  are  good,  Miss  Evelyn,"  said  Wilhelmina 
humbly. 

"  Now  run  down  to  the  drawing-room.  Quick.  It  is 
best  to  be  there  first." 

The  room  was  empty  save  for  Mr.  Galbraith,  as  Miss 
Evelyn  had  meant  that  it  should  be.  He  was  sitting  at 
ease  in  an  arm-chair — not  Mrs.  Galbraith's  high-backed 
one! — becomingly  dressed  in  a  velvet  coat.  His  back 
was  to  the  light,  and  Wilhelmina  could  not  see  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face ;  but  he  held  out  his  left  hand  with- 
out a  word,  and  she  went  up  to  him.  Her  heart  was 
beating  as  if  it  would  choke  her.  A  moment  later  he 
had  drawn  her  close,  and  his  arm  was  round  her.  Then 
he  leaned  his  head  on  the  back  of  his  chair  to  get  a  better 
view  of  her  fresh  young  face,  and  the  light  from  the 
window  accentuated  his  iron-grey  hair,  his  fine  forehead 
and  well-cut  nose.  "  Glad  to  come  to  me  ? "  he  asked 
simply;  and,  such  was  the  magnetism  of  his  presence, 
that  she  answered  truthfully,  "  Yes." 

Father  and  daughter  formed  a  charming  picture 
when  the  guests  assembled  in  the  drawing-room;  and 
Mr.  Galbraith  was  by  no  means  insusceptible  to  the 
well-disguised  surprise  with  which  Ronald  and  Hugh  re- 
garded the  new  arrival. 

The  dinner,  though  simple,  was  perfectly  cooked  and 
served.  One  advantage  of  Mr.  Galbraith's  roving  life 
was  that  he  could  usually  put  his  hand  on  the  thing  he 
wanted,  and  now  he  had  picked  up  a  youth  of  unusual 
promise,  whose  health  had  broken  down  while  he  was 
working  under  a  well-known  chef,  but  who  was  abun- 
dantly equal  to  a  light  situation  in  the  country. 

The  conversation  turned  mainly  on  horses ;  and  when 
Wilhelmina's  first  anguish  of  shyness  was  over,  she  gath- 
ered that  her  father  and  Mr.  Dalrymple  each  kept  a  racer 
in  the  stable.  What  would  Grannie  say  ?  The  question 


GLAMOUR  AND  ISOLDE.  179 

•was  constantly  in  her  mind,  but  fortunately  she  had 
sense  enough  now  to  keep  it  there. 

The  afterglow  lingered  long  that  night,  and  the  ladies 
were  still  on  the  terrace  in  their  soft  fluffy  wraps  when 
the  gentlemen  came  out  from  dinner.  The  air  was  fra- 
grant with  coffee,  and  Miss  Evelyn  was  smoking  a  dainty 
cigarette.  As  was  not  unusual,  Ronald  had  taken  a 
little  more  wine  than  was  good  for  him,  and  now  he  went 
straight  up  to  Wilhelmina. 

"  Doosid  pretty  girl ! "  he  said,  putting  his  hand  ca- 
ressingly under  her  chin. 

It  was  the  first  time  any  man  save  her  father  had 
touched  her  face,  and  she  released  herself  with  a  scarlet 
blush,  and  a  spirited  toss  of  her  well-poised  head. 

"  Quite  right !  "  said  her  father  playfully,  but  with 
an  intonation  that  not  even  Ronald  could  mistake. 
"  Hands  off !  This  young  lady  happens  to  be  my  prop- 
erty." 

He  stretched  himself  on  a  rug  at  her  feet,  and  looked 
up  in  her  face  with  a  very  pleasant  smile. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Wilhelmina  did  not  cry 
herself  to  sleep — nor  did  she  blister  the  pages  of  her  new 
diary  with  her  tears.  She  was  dazzled,  bewildered, 
charmed — by  her  own  father. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

GLAMOUR   AND   ISOLDE. 

NEXT  morning  she  was  up  and  out  betimes,  eager  to 
see  the  old  place,  and  to  pass  its  changes  in  review,  be- 
fore curious  eyes  were  about  to  see  how  it  all  affected  her. 

How  small  everything  looked! — her  bedroom,  the 
staircase,  and  the  hall!  The  shrubbery  that  had  dwelt 
in  her  mind  as  a  forest  was  but  a  steep  bank  clothed  with 
undergrowth  and  trees.  Even  the  great  tidal  river 
looked  less  like  the  ocean  than  of  old. 

Except  for  the   addition   of  the  billiard-room,   the 


180  WINDYHAUGH. 

house  was  almost  unchanged.  Those  of  the  ornaments 
that  had  offended  Mr.  Galbraith's  fastidious  taste  had 
been  removed,  and  a  few  comfortable  arm-chairs  had 
been  introduced;  but  the  old  furniture  remained,  the 
wall-papers  were  shabby,  and  the  woodwork  and  fittings 
were  in  actual  want  of  repair.  The  garden  too  was  ne- 
glected. Tail-o'-the-week  was  dead,  and,  although  his 
successor  looked  in  at  stated  intervals,  everything  seemed 
tangled  and  overgrown.  It  was  obvious  that  the  main 
interest  of  the  house  centred  in  the  stables.  The  new 
buildings  were  not  really  remarkable,  but  to  Wilhel- 
mina's  untrained  eyes  the  roomy,  well-ventilated,  loose 
boxes  were  magnificent,  and  the  coach-house  and  har- 
ness-room, well  lighted  and  lined  with  varnished  wood, 
seemed  quite  palatial.  She  would  have  spent  a  long 
time  examining  every  detail,  but  the  sight  of  the  men 
filled  her  with  terror.  She  had  never  seen  people  look 
so  knowing,  so  sure  of  themselves  and  their  world. 
Charles  was  not  quite  so  alarming,  but  the  impish  jockey 
and  important  stud-groom  made  her  feel  herself  a  shy 
little  guest  at  Windyhaugh. 

There  was  no  lock  now  on  the  garden  gate,  and,  once 
within  the  high  enclosure,  she  well-nigh  forgot  the 
changes  that  had  taken  place.  Once  more  the  fruit  was 
ripening  on  the  ruddy  brick  walls :  once  more  the  crisp 
brown  shoots  and  crimson  blooms  of  the  roses  stood  out 
against  the  opalescent  water  away  down  below.  At  the 
far  end  of  the  garden  stood  the  old  arbour,  approached 
by  a  flight  of  steps,  and  commanding  a  fine  view  of  the 
estuary.  Wilhelmina  seated  herself  on  the  wooden 
bench  with  a  long  sigh. 

She  had  scarcely  had  time  to  collect  her  thoughts 
when  Hugh  appeared.  At  this  period  of  his  life  he 
cherished  a  hopeless  passion  for  Miss  Evelyn;  but  as 
that  lady  would  not  be  downstairs  for  hours,  he  was 
willing  to  talk  to  his  cousin. 

"  It's  awfully  nice  to  see  you  again,  Vilma,"  he  said, 
seating  himself  on  the  worm-eaten  step  at  her  feet. 
"May  I  smoke?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  doubtfully,  "  if  you  want  to." 

"Do  you  remember,"  he  went  on,  as  if  searching  in 


GLAMOUR  AND  ISOLDE.  181 

the  dimmest  recesses  of  his  memory,  "  a  visit  we  paid  to 
you  here,  ages  and  ages  ago  ? " 

Wilhelmina  laughed  gleefully.  "  Oh,  yes.  I  remem- 
ber it  very  well." 

"  Windyhaugh  has  rather  changed  since  those  days." 

"  It  has  indeed." 

"  Mean  to  say  you  like  the  old  style  better  ?  " 

She  smiled.  "  I  don't  quite  know  yet  what  the  new 
style  is." 

"  You'll  soon  get  rid  of  us,  you  know.  We're  all 
booked  somewhere  or  other  for  the  twelfth." 

"  Oh,  Hugh !  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  I  want  to 
hear  all  about  you  and  Aunt  Enid  and  Gavin.  Are  you 
really  going  to  be  a  soldier  ? " 

His  brow  clouded.  "  I  hope  so.  I  have  been  ploughed 
twice,  but  I  think  I'm  pretty  safe  for  the  next  time.  If 
I  miss  Woolwich,  I  can  still  have  a  try  at  Sandhurst,  but 
of  course  the  army  is  no  fun  unless  one's  commission  is 
in  the  Royal  Artillery." 

"  Oh  ?  That  is  rather  hard  on  all  the  other  regi- 
ments." 

He  laughed  at  her  literal  spirit,  and  then  he  sighed. 
"  In  the  meantime,  if  I  can  only  scrape  through  this  in- 
fernal exam. ! " 

"  Shall  you  be  all  right  after  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  rather !  It  is  man's  work  then — Military  To- 
pography, you  know,  and  Fortification  and  Tactics  and 
that  kind  of  thing." 

Her  eyes  grew  large.     "  That  sounds  pretty  bad." 

"  No  doubt  a  girl  would  find  it  so,  not  a  man.  They 
say  wild  horses  wouldn't  prevent  a  fellow  passing  out." 
He  paused  and  added  reflectively,  "  Water  on  the  brain 
might." 

"  And  how  are  Aunt  Enid  and  Gavin  ?  Is  Gavin  still 
as  lovely  as  he  was?  I  always  used  to  think  of  him 
when  we  read  that  poem  of  Wordsworth's  at  school — 

"  '  Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy,' 
you  know — and  then — 

"  '  Trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 
From  God  who  is  our  home.'  " 


182  WINDYHAUGH. 

Hugh  choked  on  his  cigarette  smoke.  "  He  doesn't 
trail  clouds  of  glory — much — now,"  he  said.  "But  he 
is  far  too  pretty  for  a  boy.  I  always  tell  him  he  ought 
to  have  been  a  girl." 

"  And  Aunt  Enid  ? — is  she  as  pretty  as  ever  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  Mater  will  never  grow  old,  bless  her!  She 
is  a  regular  trump." 

"  She's  beautiful.  I  often  think  of  that  first  night 
when  I  lay  in  bed,  and  listened  to  her  voice." 

"  You've  an  awfully  nice  voice  of  your  own,  now," 
he  said,  "  and  you  contribute  your  share  to  the  family 
good  looks." 

He  watched  the  rosy  colour  creep  over  her  face  at 
his  words,  and  wished  he  could  write  and  tell  his  mother 
how  pretty  she  was;  but,  although  Enid  knew  her  son 
was  in  Scotland  with  Konald,  the  Windyhaugh  part  of 
the  programme  had  been  suppressed. 

"I?  Oh,  Hugh!"  said  Wilhelmina.  "Don't  you 
think  we  should  go  in  to  breakfast  ? " 

"I  do;  but  I  think  you  might  let  me  have  a  kiss 
first." 

She  looked  unhappy,  not  wishing  to  seem  ungracious. 

"I  don't  care  for  kissing,"  she  said  hesitatingly  at 
last.  "Do  you?" 

"It  is  an  overrated  pastime  as  a  rule,  I  admit;  but 

in  this  case We  are  cousins,  you  know.  We  were 

children  together." 

"  Of  course — but  we  never  kissed  when  we  were  chil- 
dren." 

"  What  a  memory  you  have !  and  what  a  fool  I  must 
have  been!  I  remember  you  were  a  regular  martinet — 
kept  me  in  no  end  of  good  order.  I  can  believe  that  you 
wouldn't  let  me  kiss  you." 

She  laughed  out  light-heartedly.  "I  wish  I  could 
feel  sure  that  the  objection  was  entirely  on  my  side  in 
those  days !  " 

"  I  know  I  feel  very  sure  whose  side  the  objection  is 
on  now.  Don't  be  stiff,  Vilma; 

"  '  We  twa  hae  paidl'd  in  the  burn,' 
you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 


GLAMOUR  AND  ISOLDE.  183 

Wilhelmina's  eyes  bubbled  over  in  glee. 
"True!"  she  said— 

"  '  And  there's  a  hand,  my  trusty  fiere ! 
And  gie's  a  hand  o'  thine.'  " 

She  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  carefully  keeping 
the  hands  referred  to  at  arm's  length. 

"  You  are  clever  after  all,  Vilma,"  he  said  regret- 
fully ;  "  I  knew  you  would  be." 

"  Oh,  Hugh,  I  wish  I  were !  "  she  cried  wistfully.  "  I 
was  too  happy  at  school  to  be  clever ;  but  I  mean  to  begin 
now,  and  read  very  hard." 

"Don't!"  he  said  earnestly.  "Take  my  advice.  I 
have  met  no  end  of  clever  women  in  London,  and  it  is 
my  deliberate  conviction  that  the  game  is  not  worth  the 
candle." 

As  he  spoke  they  came  in  sight  of  Mr.  Galbraith,  sun- 
ning himself  on  the  doorstep.  His  worn  face  bright- 
ened when  he  caught  sight  of  his  daughter  in  her  fresh 
blue  cotton  frock,  and  he  drew  her  to  him  affectionately, 
as  he  had  done  the  day  before. 

"  Well,  little  one?  "  he  said. 

Most  of  us  lunch  and  dine  in  the  same  conventional 
fashion  now-a-days.  It  is  in  the  breakfast-room  that 
the  true  character  and  temperament  of  a  family  come 
out;  and  Windy haugh  at  this  time  was  certainly  a  fine 
example  of  the  good  old  barbarous  English 'school.  Fish 
fresh  from  the  river,  fruit  from  the  garden,  oatmeal  por- 
ridge and  scones,  backed  by  more  substantial  dainties, 
made  a  goodly  show,  while  the  old  world  flowers  in  the 
garden  vied  with  each  other  as  to  who  should  send  in 
the  most  fragrant  greeting  on  the  fresh  sunladen  air. 
One  feature  these  breakfasts  had,  too,  that  was  not  Eng- 
lish— delicious  coffee  from  freshly-roasted  berries.  Mr. 
Galbraith  did  not  belong  to  the  great  majority  of  Eng- 
lishmen, who  in  this  respect  are  content  to  grumble  and 
endure.  If  Mademoiselle  could  have  but  seen  the  day! 

Ann,  Jane,  the  chef,  and  a  scullery-maid  constituted 
the  domestic  staff,  so  Wilhelmina  escaped  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible to  help  with  the  lighter  housework.  She  was  ter- 
ribly shy  of  Jane,  and  this  feeling  was  not  lessened  by 


184:  WINDYHAUGH. 

the  fact  that  it  did  not  seem  to  be  in  any  way  recip- 
rocated. 

"  It's  no'  the  richt  thing  ava  that  she  should  be  here," 
Ann  said  mournfully,  "  the  mistress  having  sent  her 
awa'  an'  that ;  but  your  father  took  a  fancy  to  her.  He 
wanted  somebody,  too,  that  would  keep  a  short  tongue 
in  her  heid,  an' — I'll  undertake  that  Jane'll  do  that !  " 

Ann  laid  a  pillow  in  place  with  a  gesture  that  seemed 
to  say,  "  You  presume  to  move  at  your  peril ! "  Her 
whole  life  at  Windyhaugh  was  a  protest  in  these  days — a 
protest  that  dared  not  find  expression  in  words,  and  that 
took  refuge  in  a  dour  manner,  and  an  uncompromising 
vernacular. 

Wimelmina's  face  grew  very  red.  "Is  she  mar- 
ried?" 

Ann  did  not  reply  immediately.  "  She's  no'  mar- 
ried," she  said  doggedly  at  last.  "  It's  no'  richt  that  you 
should  be  under  the  same  roof  wi'  her — an'  a  play-actress 
i'  the  hoose  an'  a'." 

"  Ann,"  said  Wilhelmina  solemnly,  "  you  must  never 
say  a  word  against  Miss  Evelyn.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
kind  she  has  been  to  me.  I  think  once  I  should  have 
died  if  it  hadn't  been  for  her." 

"  An'  what  would  your  Grannie  say  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  adjusted  the  perfumed  night-dress  case, 
and  sat  down  on  a  low  chair  with  her  head  on  her 
hands. 

"  Ann,"  she  said  slowly,  with  sublime  naivete,  "  Gran- 
nie didn't  know  how  difficult  life  gets.  It  isn't  as  if  we 
planned  it  all  for  ourselves.  Things  happen,  and  other 
things  grow  out  of  that,  and  then  we've  got  to  live  in 
the  middle  of  it  all.  If  a  little  tree  in  the  shrubbery 
finds  a  big  branch  above  its  head,  it  can't  grow  straight 
on.  It  has  got  to  pass  either  on  the  one  side  or  the 
other." 

Ann  stared,  more  than  half  mystified.  If  Wilhel- 
mina had  wanted  an  appreciative  audience,  she  should 
have  made  that  remark  to  her  father. 

"  Well,  Miss  Wilhelmina,  I  hope  you'll  no'  set  your 
heart  on  a'  thae  braw  things.  Wha  kens  how  long  it'll 
last?" 


GLAMOUR  AND  ISOLDE.  185 

They  had  gone  into  another  room,  and  Wilhelmina 
carefully  closed  the  door.  "  Ann,"  she  said  in  a  tremu- 
lous voice,  "  whose  money  is  doing  it  all  ?  Not  Mr. 
Dalrymple's?" 

"  Na,  na.  I'll  no'  say  but  what  Mr.  Dalrymple  took 
a  share  i'  the  new  buildings,  an'  nae  doubt  he  pays  for 
the  keep  o'  his  ain  beast;  but  it's  your  father's  money 
richt  eiieugh."  And  Ann  sighed  as  if  that  fact  were 
small  consolation. 

"Vilma!  Vilma!"  cried  Hugh's  voice.  "Uncle 
George  wants  you  to  come  and  see  the  mares.  We  are 
going  to  try  their  paces  in  the  field." 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  "  said  Wilhelmina  with  beaming  face, 
"I  can't  stop.  Father  wants  me;"  and,  seizing  her 
hat,  she  took  the  steps  almost  at  a  bound. 

In  after  years  when  she  was  present  at  a  real  race, 
with  its  royal  enclosure,  its  grand  stand,  its  smart  drags, 
its  elegant  costumes,  and  its  undercurrent  of  sin  and 
squalor,  she  thought  with  hungry  longing  of  that  first 
sunny  morning. 

Only  a  quiet  level  green  field  surrounded  by  trees; 
a  bright  sun  catching  the  fresh  morning  gowns  of  the 
ladies,  and  the  white  and  tan  coats  of  the  dogs;  only 
two  beautiful  silky  thoroughbreds  laying  back  their  sen- 
sitive ears  and  throwing  out  their  long  shapely  limbs  as 
if  for  the  very  joy  of  existence — surely  this  and  not  the 
other  was  the  very  ideal  of  a  race ! 

The  animals  were  back  at  the  starting-point,  muffled 
up,  patted  and  caressed  before  Wilhelmina  took  her  eyes 
off  them  for  a  moment.  Then  she  turned  to  her  father, 
and,  to  her  surprise,  met  his  eye. 

"  How  quick  they  go !  "  she  said  breathlessly. 

Hugh  laughed.  "  That's  not  an  unusual  feature  in 
racers,"  he  said. 

"For  the  future  blase  people  under  twenty  are  re- 
quested to  pay  a  guinea  at  the  gate,"  said  Mr.  Galbraith 
quietly. 

"  And  yet,"  continued  Wilhelmina  unheeding,  "  they 
don't  seem  to  be  going  fast  at  all.  It's  like — it's  like 
the  sleep  of  a  spinning-top." 

At  this  moment  Jane  made  her  appearance  with  a 


186  WINDYHAUGH. 

card  in  her  hand.  "  A  gentleman  to  see  you,  sir,"  she 
said  to  her  master. 

Mr.  Galbraith  looked  at  the  card  with  furrowed 
brows. 

"  Harley  Brentwood,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Who  in  the 
world  is  Harley  Brentwood  ? " 

"  I  know,"  cried  Hugh,  unabashed  by  his  recent  snub. 
"  He's  a  fellow  who  got  upset  in  the  river  near  here,  and 
you  fished  him  out." 

Mr.  Galbraith  looked  at  his  nephew  with  expression- 
less eyes.  "  May  I  ask  where  you  picked  up  that — that 
cock-and-bull  story  ? " 

Hugh  knocked  the  ash  off  the  end  of  his  cigarette. 
"  He  told  me  himself.  I  met  him — let  me  see — I  think 
it  was  at  the  Royal  Institution.  He  has  got  a  sister — 
an  awfully  swagger  girl." 

Mr.  Galbraith  turned  to  the  maid  who  was  waiting. 
"  Tell  Mr.  Brentwood  we  are  out  here  with  the  horses. 
Perhaps  he  would  like  to  join  us." 

"  Now  I  think  of  it,  Rigby  was  talking  about  Brent- 
wood in  London  the  other  day,"  continued  Hugh.  "I 
think  he  said  Mrs.  Brentwood  was  dead,  and  Brentwood 
had  chucked  the  Church  and  gone  in  for  literature. 
Honest  doubt  business." 

Mr.  Galbraith's  lip  curled.  "  Quite  the  regulation 
proceeding,"  he  said.  "  This  little  pose  of  atheism  on 
the  part  of  our  young  men  is  becoming  a  trifle  hack- 
neyed." 

Ronald  yawned.  "  I  can't  think  what  anybody  wants 
to  be  an  atheist  for  now  that  Canon  Somebody  says 
there  is  no  hell.  I  have  often  wondered  whether  Heaven 
couldn't  be  improved  upon;  but,  upon  my  soul,  it  never 
occurred  to  me  to  tinker  at  the  other  place." 

Wilhelmina  looked  appalled. 

"Don't  listen  to  him,  little  one,"  said  her  father. 
"  It  is  only  his  nonsense." 

"  Oh,  is  it  just  ? "  cried  shrewd  obtuse  Hugh.  Then 
he  turned  to  his  cousin.  "  Are  you  particularly  gone 
on  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment  ? "  he  asked. 

Wilhelmina  drew  herself  up.  "  I  don't  think  I  un- 
derstand you,"  she  said  with  dignity. 


GLAMOUR  AND  ISOLDE.  187 

Mr.  Galbraith  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "  I  wish  we 
could  manage  a  season  for  her  in  town  next  year,"  he 
thought. 

The  appearance  of  the  visitor  put  a  stop  to  an  un- 
edifying  conversation.  Mr.  Galbraith  went  towards  the 
gate  and  took  the  young  man's  hand  with  a  genial  smile. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  it  is  pleasant  to  find  you  have 
not  forgotten  us  at  Windyhaugh." 

"Indeed,  I  feel  like  one  of  the  nine.  I  should 
have  made  an  effort  to  find  you  long  ago,  but  latterly  we 
have  spent  much  of  our  time  abroad,  with — my  mother." 

Mr.  Galbraith's  face  grew  grave  in  an  instant.  "  Ah ! 
I  was  sorry  to  hear  of  your  loss." 

The  young  man  seemed  pleased  that  he  had  heard  of 
it.  "  Yes,"  he  said  quietly.  "  My  sister  and  I  are  alone 
now." 

"  From  what  I  hear  she  is  a  sister  any  man  would  be 
proud  of." 

Mr.  Brentwood's  face  lighted  up.  "  She  is  much 
more  than  that,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  obviously 
meant  for  the  absent  sister.  "  By  the  way  she  told  me 
to  say  that  she  hopes  some  day  to  have  an  opportunity 
of  thanking  you " 

"For  what?  Oh!"  Mr.  Galbraith  laughed  lightly. 
"  I  am  sure  I  will  glady  make  the  most  of  any  chance 
service  that  gives  me  some  claim  on  her  regard." 

As  he  spoke  they  joined  the  little  group  on  the  slop- 
ing bank  of  the  field.  Brief  though  her  father's  absence 
had  been,  Wilhelmina  greeted  him  with  a  quick  smile 
of  welcome ;  and  then,  quite  involuntarily,  she  extended 
the  smile  to  Mr.  Brentwood.  A  moment  before  she  had 
felt  a  sudden  rush  of  loneliness,  a  sudden  dread  of  the 
company  she  was  in.  The  men  had  looked  so  fast,  so 
horsey,  and  that  innocent  little  cigarette  seemed  to  place 
even  Miss  Evelyn  at  terrible  distance.  Mr.  Galbraith's 
stately  presence  brought  relief  and  reassurance  at  once, 
and  so,  strangely  enough,  did  Mr.  Brentwood's  grave 
ascetic  face  and  semi-clerical  grey  tweed. 

"  Yours  is  the  casting  vote,  Mr.  Brentwood,"  Hugh 
called  out  gaily,  when  the  beautiful  creatures  had  shown 
their  paces  once  more.  "  At  present  the  betting  is  even. 
13 


188  WINDYHAUGH. 

We  two  back  Glamour.  Uncle  George  and  Colonel  Bry- 
don  backed  Isolde.  Glamour  won  the  Maiden  Plate,  but 
Isolde  has  been  putting  on  form  tremendously  since." 

The  visitor  smiled.  "  You  help  me  out  of  a  difficul- 
ty," he  said,  "  by  forcing  me  to  betray  the  density  of  my 
ignorance  at  once.  Like  Sidney  Smith  I  don't  know 
a  horse  from  a  cow.  As  a  picture"  he  glanced  round 
the  field  before  his  eye  rested  on  the  ladies — "  the  whole 
thing  is  delightful.  If  you  ask  me  to  bet,  I  have  just 
wisdom  enough  to  throw  in  my  lot  with  Mr.  Galbraith." 

Wilhelmina  beamed  on  the  speaker.  Hs  was  young 
enough  to  be  very  appreciative  of  his  own  well-turned 
remark;  but  only  Mr.  Galbraith  was  quick  enough  to 
note  the  self-conscious  little  blush  that  accompanied  it. 
He  held  up  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  protest  that  was 
not  wholly  playful.  "Don't!  Don't"  he  said  lightly. 
"  My  bad  luck  is  proverbial.  Glamour  is  better  bred, 
but  Isolde  has  a  heart  of  gold." 

"  His  bad  luck  proverbial ! "  chuckled  Hugh  in  an 
undertone.  "  Pretty  well  that  for  a  man  who  won  three 
thousand  pounds  in  a  day  at  Monte  Carlo ! " 

Wilhelmina  just  caught  the  words.  And  so  the  great 
mystery  was  solved. 

Mr.  Galbraith  laid  his  hand  on  young  Brentwood's 
shoulder,  and  led  him  away  from  the  others.  "  Come  to 
my  den,"  he  said,  "  and  have  a  chat.  You  will  stay  to 
lunch  of  course." 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall  be  very  glad.  I  should  like  in 
the  afternoon  to  look  up  that  clergyman  who  was  so 
good  to  me,  if  he  is  still  here." 

"  Mr.  Carmichael  ?  A  thorough  good  fellow.  Some- 
body shall  drive  you  over  in  the  dog-cart  after  lunch." 

"  Thanks  very  much ;  but  I  think  I  would  rather 
walk.  My  doctor  is  strong  on  physical  exercise  for  me 
just  now." 

For  the  first  time  Mr.  Galbraith  looked  at  the  lean 
eager  face  with  an  almost  professional  eye.  "  You  have 
been  none  the  worse,  I  hope,  for  that  unlucky  ducking  ?  " 

Brentwood  laughed.  "Don't  call  it  unlucky,"  he 
said  with  real  feeling,  "  since  it  gave  me  the  privilege  of 
knowing  you.  ^Esculapius  says  I  may  consider  myself 


GLAMOUR  AND  ISOLDE.  189 

lucky  to  have  escaped  organic  mischief  in  the  lungs.  I 
am  all  right ;  but  periodically  I  get  the  most  prostrating 
headaches.  It  is  a  stupid  womanish  complaint;  one 
would  almost  rather  have  something  organic;  but  he 
says  it  is  a  neurosis  that  I  shall  probably  outgrow." 

He  was  surprised  to  find  himself  talking  so  frankly 
of  a  physical  frailty;  but  George  Galbraith's  face  at 
the  moment  was  that  of  a  born  father  confessor. 

"  I  think  there  is  little  doubt  that  you  will  live  it 
down,"  he  said  with  grave  kindness ;  "  but  that  sort  of 
thing  is  very  trying  while  it  lasts." 

"  Horribly.  And  yet — as  literature  is  probably  going 
to  be  my — my  trade,  it  matters  less  than  if — than  it 
might  have  done." 

An  hour  or  two  later  Brentwood  started  on  his  way 
to  Queensmains.  Miss  Evelyn  and  Mr.  Galbraith  went 
with  him  to  the  gate,  and  after  bidding  him  farewell, 
strolled  on  along  the  coast.  For  the  first  half  mile  the 
young  man  walked  with  his  grave  eyes  on  the  ground; 
then  suddenly  he  stopped;  a  boyish  smile  broke  up  the 
thought-furrows  on  his  face,  and  he  switched  the  head 
off  a  particularly  audacious  knap-weed. 

"  Well,  I'm  blessed,"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "  if  that 
isn't  the  rummiest  household  I  ever  came  across ! " 

He  seated  himself  on  a  low  dyke,  as  if  to  give  his 
undivided  energies  to  the  consideration  of  the  subject. 

He  passed  it  all  in  review — the  shabby  house,  the 
fine  stables;  the  neglected  garden,  the  cook  in  his  spot- 
less cap  and  apron.  But  all  this  was  only  the  back- 
ground of  the  picture.  It  was  the  characters  who  were 
really  interesting.  There  was  Mr.  Galbraith,  whom  for 
two  years  Brentwood  had  regarded  with  a  feeling  akin 
to  hero-worship;  there  was  Miss  Evelyn,  whom,  under 
another  name,  he  had  admired  repeatedly  on  the  stage; 
there  was  that  "he-minx,  Hugh  Dalrymple,"  of  whom 
he  had  seen  just  enough  to  know  that  he  belonged  to 
a  fast  set  in  London;  and,  in  the  midst  of  all,  there 
was  the  little  girl  in  the  cotton  frock,  "  for  all  the  world 
like  a  blue-bell  that  has  lost  its  way  in  an  orchid- 
house." 

Brentwood  had  belonged  to  a  studious  set  at  Cam- 


190  WINDYHAUGH. 

bridge,  and  his  knowledge  of  life  was  not  yet  very  pro- 
found, though  his  insight  was  keen.  He  possessed  that 
freedom  from  prejudice  which  characterizes  most  young 
men  now-a-days,  but  in  his  case  it  was  balanced  by  a 
faculty  of  reverence  that  is  as  rare  as  the  other  is  com- 
mon. He  did  not  admire  George  Galbraith  the  more 
because  he  seemed  to  live  a  Bohemian  life;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  declined  to  admire  him  the  less  on  that 
account.  Here  evidently  was  a  character,  to  be  studied 
and  appreciated  as  such.  "I  shall  certainly  avail  my- 
self of  his  invitation  to  go  back,"  said  Brentwood  as  he 
resumed  his  walk.  "  In  the  meantime,  as  a  mere  matter 
of  curiosity,  I  should  like  to  know  what  the  country  says 
to  it  all!" 

He  had  not  walked  far  before  a  turn  in  the  road 
brought  him  in  sight  of  the  "blue-bell,"  and  he  made 
haste  to  overtake  her.  Her  shy  involuntary  smile  of 
surprise  was  very  flattering. 

"  Are  you  walking  to  Queensmains  ? "  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  That  is  lucky  for  me." 

She  did  not  respond,  and  he  added  playfully,  "  — un- 
less I  am  interrupting  an  interesting  train  of  thought." 

She  sighed.  "  One  is  glad  to  stop  thinking  some- 
times." 

He  nearly  laughed  outright,  but  she  was  evidently 
very  serious. 

"  In  that  case  I  must  not  even  offer  a  penny  for  your 
thoughts." 

"  Oh,  they  were  nothing  particular.  I  was  thinking 
— how  difficult  life  is !  " 

"  Life  at  beautiful  Windyhaugh  ? — with  its  kind  peo- 
ple, and  those  nice  horses  and  dogs  to  play  with  ? " 

He  was  talking  down  to  her  now.  Did  he  know  how 
old  she  was?  She  drew  herself  up,  and  old  Mrs.  Gal- 
braith herself  could  scarcely  have  looked  more  uncom- 
promising as  she  said — 

"  We  were  not  sent  into  the  world  just  to  play." 

"  Don't  you  think  some  of  us  were  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  She  had  not  thus  learnt  the 
lesson  of  old  Windyhaugh. 


GLAMOUR  AND  ISOLDE.  191 

"  Then  shouldn't  we  look  around,  and  decide  what 
to  do,  and  simply  set  to  work  to  do  it  ? " 

"  It  is  easy  to  decide,  but  suppose  the  work  is  taken 
right  out  of  our  hands  ?  " 

"  Then  we  probably  made  a  mistake ;  but  the  chances 
are  that  our  real  work  is  lying  close  at  hand  all  the 
time." 

She  shook  her  head.  This  suggestion  did  not  meet 
the  exigencies  of  the  case  in  hand. 

"  And  at  any  rate,"  he  continued,  willing  to  be  help- 
ful, "  don't  you  think  we  ought  to  be  glad  now  and  then 
of  a  little  time  in  which  to  lay  by  wisdom  and  strength  ? 
The  chances  are  that  life  will  drive  us  on  hard  enough 
by  and  bye." 

"  That's  true,"  she  said  suddenly,  becoming  unwit- 
tingly personal,  "  and  I  do  mean  to  read  serious  books. 
I  am  half  way  through  Sartor  Resartus  now." 

Again  his  eyes  bubbled  over  with  laughter.  He  was 
quite  used  to  the  society  of  women  who  read  Carlyle; 
but  Sartor  Resartus  and  Windyhaugh — as  he  knew  Win- 
dyhaugh — were  an  irresistibly  funny  combination.  Did 
the  orchid-house  grow  edelweiss  as  well  as  blue-bells? 
"  And  do  you  understand  it  ?  "  he  said. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  a  little  doubtfully.  In  truth 
the  atmosphere  and  imagery  of  the  book  delighted  her. 
Poring  over  it,  sentence  by  sentence,  she  surely  under- 
stood it;  and  yet — somehow  she  had  her  doubts. 

They  walked  on  for  a  minute  or  two  in  silence. 

"  I  did  come  to  a  bit  to-day,"  she  said  conscientiously 
at  last,  "  that  I  didn't  quite  understand.  It  was  about 
the  Where  and  the  When,  and  it  ended  with — '  Think 
well,  thou  too  wilt  find  there  is  no  Space  nor  Time.  We 
are — we  know  not  what — light-sparkles  floating  in  the 
a3ther  of  Deity ! '  Perhaps  I  haven't  thought  well 
enough  yet.  I  only  read  it  after  lunch  to-day,  but — 
but " 

This  time  he  laughed  outright.  "  But  Space  and 
Time  have  an  odd  air  of  reality  still.  I  know.  It  is  a 
way  they  have." 

She  seemed  so  sensitive  to  his  laughter  that  he  grew 
grave  at  once. 


192  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Of  course  you  can't  make  much  of  a  passage  that 
you  pick  up  between  your  finger  and  thumb  like 
that " 

"  Of  course  not,"  she  said  hurriedly,  abashed. 

"  And  yet — hasn't  even  that  fragment  a  pleasant  and 
restful  meaning?  When  one  is  irked  by  the  conditions 
one  is  in,  the  time  one  is  in,  and  the  place  one  is  in — 
isn't  it  a  comfort  to  shake  it  all  off — to  say,  'It's  not 
real ' ;  and  simply  to  throw  oneself  like — an  unattached 
sea-weed,  into  the  ocean  of — God?" 

His  metaphor  was  scarcely  an  improvement  on  Car- 
lyle's,  but  it  made  all  the  difference  to  Wilhelmina. 
Philosophy  in  the  wedding-garment  of  religion  found 
easy  access  to  her  mind.  Very  slowly  she  raised  awe- 
struck admiring  eyes.  And  they  had  dared  to  talk  of 
atheism  in  connection  with  this  man ! 

"  I  am  going  to  call  on  the  minister,"  he  said  a  mo- 
ment later,  rather  ashamed  of  the  turn  his  sentence  had 
taken. 

"I  am  going  to  see  a  friend  too." 

"  Then  if  I  may,  I  will  take  you  to  your  destination 
first.  I  have  plenty  of  time  on  my  hands.  I  was  much 
interested  to  meet  Miss  Evelyn  in  private  life.  You 
won't  tell  her  if  you  think  she  would  be  displeased ;  but 
of  course  I  couldn't  help  recognizing  her.  I  suppose 
you  have  often  seen  her  act  ? " 

"  Only  once — oh,  a  long  time  ago !  I  haven't  been 
to  the  theatre  since  I  was  quite  a  little  girl." 

"  No  doubt  she  is  a  great  friend  of  yours." 

"  She  is  a  great  friend  of  my  father's,"  said  Wilhel- 
mina simply.  "  She  has  been  very  kind  to  me." 

"  He  is  a  wonderful  man,  your  father.  I  have  an 
immense  admiration  for  him." 

She  smiled  brightly  as  if  that  were  a  matter  of 
course. 

A  minute  later  they  reached  the  grimy  little  grocer's 
shop — so  much  smaller,  so  much  grimier,  than  of  old ! 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Wilhelmina ;  "  this  is  my  desti- 
nation." 

"  Oh  ?  I  thought  you  said  you  were  going  to  see  a 
friend." 


WILHELMINA  FINDS  A  KINGDOM.  193 

She  blushed.  She  was  neither  young  enough  nor 
old  enough  to  "  see  life  whole,"  and  she  had  not  been 
two  years  at  a  girls'  school  without  acquiring  a  veneer 
of  feeble  snobbishness;  but  she  was  not  going  to  deny 
the  friend  of  her  childhood  for  that. 

"I  am,"  she  said  bravely.     "My  friend  lives  here." 
And  so  the  blue-bell  disappeared  into  the  dust  and 
cavernous  darkness  of  the  shop. 


CHAPTER 

WILHELMINA   FINDS   A   KINGDOM. 

THERE  were  several  people  in  the  shop,  and  Wilhel- 
mina's  eyes  were  too  much  dazzled  by  the  glare  outside 
to  see  just  at  first  that  Mr.  Darsie  was  not  there. 

Of  course  no  one  knew  her,  and  indeed  the  gossips 
were  too  much  enthralled  by  the  subject  under  discus- 
sion to  notice  her  entrance  at  'all. 

"  What  I'd  fain  ken,"  an  old  woman  was  saying  se- 
verely, "  is  what  call  a  play-actress  has  to  be  yonder. 
Card-playing  and  horse-racing's  bad  eneugh,  but  a  play- 
actress —  /"  She  brought  a  horny  hand  forcibly  down 
on  the  counter.  "  It's  a  disgrace  to  the  memory  of  a 
righteous  God-fearing  woman !  " 

A  murmur  of  approval  greeted  this  creditable  sen- 
timent. 

"  They  do  say  this  ane's  respectable,"  put  in  a  young 
man  feebly. 

"  Respectable  ?  Hoot  awa !  Dinna  tell  me !  I  never 
met  the  play-actress  yet  that  was  respectable." 

As  the  speaker  had  probably  never  met  one  of  any 
kind,  this  statement  was  not  surprising. 

"  An'  if  the  hussy's  pleased  to  ca'  hersel'  respectable" 
she  continued  with  biting  sarcasm,  "  wha'  is  it  she'll  be 
after?— Mr.  Galbraith  or  Mr.  Dalrymple?" 

The  young  man  grinned.     "I'm  told  she's  sweet  on 


194       .  WINDYHAUGH. 

Mr.  Galbraith,  but  weel  aware  that  Mr.  Dalrymple  has 
the  siller." 

"An'  there  they  baith  stan' — dancing  attendance, 
an'  waiting  for  my  leddy  to  pick  an'  choose?  Hoots 
man,  ye're  doited !  " 

"Na,  na.  Mr.  Galbraith's  no'  likely  to  pit  his  heid 
i'  the  noose  a  third  time;  but  they  say  she's  bound  to 
catch  Mr.  Dalrymple." 

"  Weel,  it's  a  sin  an'  a  shame — when  ye  mind  o'  auld 
Mistress  Galbraith — to  think  that  noo  nae  decent  woman 
wad  cross  the  threshold  o'  Windyhaugh !  " 

Up  to  this  moment  Wilhelmina  had  been  wondering 
how  she  could  escape  unobserved.  Now  she  accepted 
the  risk,  and  darted  out  into  the  sunshine. 

Panting  and  breathless  she  walked  up  and  down  till 
she  had  recovered  her  presence  of  mind;  then  she 
turned  up  the  steep  little  lane  that  led  to  the  rooms 
above  the  shop.  With  her  hand  on  the  knocker  she 
paused.  What  a  relief  it  would  be  to  hurry  home,  and 
postpone  her  visit  till  to-morrow! 

"Coward!"  she  said.  "Will  you  act  as  if  you  be- 
lieved their  hateful  slanders  ?  "  And  there  was  no  doubt 
or  indecision  about  her  cheerful  rat-tat. 

The  old  man  was  busy  preparing  his  bachelor  tea. 
The  woman  who  "  did "  for  him  usually  went  home 
after  cooking  his  mid-day  dinner.  Wilhelmina  had 
thought  him  very  old  when  she  was  a  child,  but  now  he 
seemed  much  older.  His  gait  was  beginning  to  suggest 
"  the  pursuit  of  his  own  centre  of  gravity,"  and  he 
seemed  unable  to  control  the  facial  muscles  that  quiv- 
ered with  joy  at  the  sight  of  her. 

He  had  a  thousand  questions  to  ask  about  herself 
and  her  "  eddication,"  but  he  would  not  have  been  hu- 
man if  he  had  not  been  curious  to  hear  something  of 
Windyhaugh  too;  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  on  this 
subject  she  gave  him  scant  encouragement.  Indeed  she 
veered  away  from  it  so  gaily  and  persistently  that  she 
succeeded  in  making  him  think  the  state  of  affairs  a 
great  deal  more  serious  than  it  actually  was.  On  the 
whole,  however,  the  interview  was  as  successful  as  first 
interviews  after  a  long  separation  are  wont  to  be. 


WILHELMINA  FINDS  A  KINGDOM.  195 

Wilhelmina  reached  home  just  in  time  to  dress  for 
dinner,  and  appeared  downstairs  with  a  bright  red  flush 
on  each  cheek. 

"  And  where  has  the  missis  been  all  the  afternoon  ? " 
said  her  father  playfully — "  deserting  her  household 
without  warning." 

She  looked  pleased  that  he  should  have  missed  her. 

"I  walked  over  to  Queensmains,"  she  said.  "Did 
anybody  call  ? " 

She  succeeded  in  asking  the  momentous  question 
with  a  casual  little  woman-of-the-world  air  that  made 
them  all  laugh.  Ronald  grinned  across  meaningly  at 
Mr.  Galbraith,  but  the  latter  did  not  meet  his  eye. 

"  Calling,  little  girl,"  he  said  carelessly,  "  is  a  frivo- 
lous occupation  that  has  been  systematically  discouraged 
at  Windyhaugh  for  over  a  quarter  of  a  century.  If  it 
is  ever  to  be  reintroduced,  the  missis  will  have  to  as- 
sume her  full  responsibilities." 

When  Wilhelmina  went  up  to  her  room  that  night 
the  brightness  of  the  moon  tempted  her  to  draw  up  her 
blind  and  look  out.  The  drive  in  front  of  the  house 
was  bathed  in  light,  and,  away  to  the  left,  she  could  see 
two  figures  in  the  shrubbery.  While  she  stood  they 
emerged  into  the  open,  and  turned  back  into  the  shadow 
of  the  trees  again.  It  was  her  father  and  Miss  Evelyn. 

Wilhelmina  felt  a  queer  little  pang  of  jealousy  as 
she  drew  down  the  blind  and  lighted  her  candle. 

"  I  wish  I  could  find  God  again,"  she  said  drearily. 
"  I  am  so  lonely." 

She  prayed  more  earnestly  than  she  had  done  for  a 
long  time — prayed  that  she  might  "throw  herself  like 
an  unattached  sea- weed  into  the  ocean  of  God  " ;  but 
her  voice  went  out  into  vacancy.  There  was  no  re- 
sponse. 

At  last  she  rose  from  her  knees,  and,  unlocking  a 
box,  took  from  it  the  leather-covered  book.  Of  course 
the  tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she  read  the  entry  of  two 
nights  before,  but  she  did  not  give  in  for  a  moment. 
Her  careful  handwriting  had  just  a  dash  of  defiance  in 
it  as  she  wrote — 

"  We  are  not  going  to  be  fools,  you  and  I,  old  book ; 


196  WINDYHAUGH. 

and  weep  and  moan  because  we  can't  build  the  world 
to  our  liking.  Let  us  look  the  situation  fairly  in  the 
face." 

She  became  a  little  less  coherent  after  that.  She 
had  hoped  to  be  her  father's  friend  and  helper;  that 
place  was  already  filled,  and  only  the  post  of  playfellow 
was  vacant.  Well,  let  her  be  content  with  the  post  of 
playfellow,  and  "be  glad  of  a  little  time  in  which  to 
lay  by  wisdom  and  strength."  But,  because  the  post  of 
friend  was  filled  by  an  actress,  the  world — poor  little 
Wilhelmina,  "  the  world  "  in  Mr.  Darsie's  shop ! — said 
"  horrid  things  " ;  and,  loving  her  father  as  she  did,  this 
was  very  hard  to  bear. 

The  page  was  not  blotted  with  tears.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  was  almost  as  immaculate  as  a  leaf  from  a  prize 
copy-book;  but  every  word  in  it  was  alive  with  genuine 
feeling.  Having  thus  delivered  her  innocent  soul,  she 
locked  up  the  diary  and  betook  herself  to  bed. 

On  opening  the  book  again  next  day,  she  accidentally 
let  a  penful  of  ink  fall  on  the  written  page.  She  was 
just  at  the  age  when  such  an  accident  is  intolerable,  and, 
rather  than  leave  a  blotted  record  of  her  feelings,  she 
carefully  extracted  the  page  altogether.  She  tore  it 
across,  and  ran  downstairs  to  burn  it  in  the  kitchen 
fire. 

In  the  hall  she  met  her  father. 

"  Hallo,  little  one !  "  he  said.  "  I  was  just  looking 
for  you.  I  want  you  to  come  to  the  billiard-room,  and 
have  your  first  lesson.  Make  haste,  and  we'll  give  them 
all  the  slip." 

His  tone  was  confidential,  and  she  followed  him  with 
delight.  For  the  next  hour  father  and  daughter  saw 
each  other  to  the  best  advantage;  and  it  was  not  till 
Wilhelmina  was  up  in  her  room  once  more  that  she  be- 
thought herself  of  those  miserable  scraps  of  paper. 

Vainly  she  searched  in  her  pocket:  they  were  not 
there.  Her  face  turned  white,  and  then  the  sweat  rose 
to  her  brow  for  terror.  Stealing  along  like  a  thief,  she 
made  her  way  back  to  the  billiard-room  in  the  hope  of 
finding  it  deserted;  but  a  peal  of  laughter  from  Ronald 
and  Hugh  forbade  her  to  enter. 


WILHELMINA  FINDS  A  KINGDOM.  197 

Had  they  found  the  bits  of  paper  and  pieced  them 
together?  Were  they  laughing  over  that?  Sick  with 
anxiety  she  leaned  against  the  lintel — actually  listening 
at  the  door  like  any  common  eavesdropper.  No,  they 
were  not  talking  of  her.  They  seemed  to  be  discussing 
Jane.  With  a  momentary  sense  of  relief,  she  stole  back 
to  her  room. 

She  left  the  door  ajar,  resolving  to  remain  awake  till 
she  heard  them  go  to  their  rooms;  but  they  wore  out 
her  physical  powers,  and  she  fell  asleep  with  her  clothes 
on.  About  two  in  the  morning  she  woke,  feeling  stiff 
and  chill.  The  house  was  dark  and  quiet  enough  now, 
save  for  the  glimmer  of  her  candle  and  the  thumping  of 
her  heart,  but  she  searched  for  the  paper  in  vain.  It 
was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

From  that  time  her  sleep  was  a  succession  of  wild 
dreams.  Now  her  father  had  found  the  scraps,  now  the 
jockey;  anon  she  discovered  the  fateful  leaf  in  her 
diary,  safe  and  immaculate  as  when  it  was  first  written. 
The  waking  from  that  dream  was  the  sorest  experience 
of  all. 

Mrs.  Summers  might  well  tell  her  not  to  be  surprised 
if  the  old  self  reappeared.  The  old  self  was  on  her  with 
a  vengeance  now.  For  days  she  struggled  to  be  bright 
and  cheerful,  fancying  all  the  while  that  this  one  and 
that  was  regarding  her  with  a  meaning  glance. 

On  the  third  day  after  dinner  she  escaped  to  the  old 
arbour  at  the  foot  of  the  garden.  No  one  was  likely  to 
follow  her  there;  but  the  river  and  hills  in  the  sunset 
light  brought  no  rest  or  peace  to  her  unquiet  mind. 

"  God,"  she  groaned,  "  don't  let  anybody  have  found 
those  papers,  don't,  don't!" 

The  absurdity  of  the  prayer — not  only  in  the  word- 
ing, but  in  its  whole  conception  of  man's  relation  to 
God,  struck  her  even  as  she  spoke. 

"  Some  people  have  the  right  to  go  to  God  with  every 
trifle,"  she  thought,  "  but  not  I.  The  privilege  is  for 
those  who  have  given  themselves  up  to  Him,  body  and 
soul." 

Quick  as  light  on  the  heels  of  this  thought  came  an- 
other. "  And  what  dees  my  whole  heart  long  for  more 


198  WINDYHAUGH. 

than  to  give  itself  up  to  Him?  Is  there  anything  I 
wish  to  keep  back  ?  " 

In  a  moment  she  had  forgotten  all  about  her  trouble ; 
she  thought  of  no  article  of  faith;  her  very  will  seemed 
fallen  asleep;  but  the  yearning  for  God  went  through 
her  like  a  rushing  mighty  wind.  Her  whole  being  was 
laid  on  the  altar. 

And  then  the  experience  took  place  that  in  after 
years  she  could  never  forget,  never  doubt,  never  quite 
explain  away.  Out  of  the  vacancy — an  answer  came 
back!  She  saw  no  face,  she  heard  no  voice;  but  a  spark 
passed  between  her  and  the  Invisible.  She  felt  herself 
in  actual  touch  with  God. 

It  all  took  place  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye;  but  that  moment  lifted  her  as  completely  above 
earthly  cares  as  if  she  had  passed  through  the  gloomy 
river.  Her  whole  aspect,  her  whole  attitude  towards 
life  and  death,  towards  time  and  eternity,  were  as  differ- 
ent as  if  she  had  been  born  again  after  lying  asleep  for 
a  thousand  years. 

She  heard  no  more  of  the  scraps  of  paper,  and  she 
thought  of  them  no  more.  "  I  went  out  to  seek  my  fa- 
ther's asses,"  said  Wilhelmina,  "  and  I  found  a  king- 
dom." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

ON  THE   SEA-SHORE. 

I  CAN  touch  but  lightly  on  the  inner  life  of  the  weeks 
and  months  that  followed.  Has  not  the  story  been  told 
once  and  again  by  those  who  are  abler  far  to  deal  with  it 
than  I  ?  "  '  He  that  f  olloweth  Me  shall  not  walk  in  dark- 
ness,' saith  the  Lord."  Wilhelmina  had  stepped  out  into 
the  light. 

Spiritual  experiences  she  had  known  before,  but 
never  anything  like  this.  It  was  this  moment  she  al- 
ways fell  back  upon  in  after  years,  when 

"  — like  a  man  in  wrath,  the  heart 
Stood  up  and  answered,  '  I  have  felt ! ' " 


ON  THE  SEA-SHORE.  199 

So  vivid,  so  unforeseen,  was  the  flash,  that  for  a 
time  creed  and  moral  law  had  no  existence  for  her.  Ser- 
mons and  books  were  like  crutches  to  the  man  whose 
limbs  are  sound.  She  went  about  the  household  in  a 
spirit  of  radiant  gladness;  but  her  greatest  joy  was  to 
slip  out  of  sight,  to  fall  behind  the  others  in  the  course 
of  a  walk,  that  she  might  give  herself  up  unreservedly 
to  this  new  communion — "throw  herself  like  an  unat- 
tached sea-weed  into  the  ocean  of  God." 

She  was  very  grateful  to  young  Brentwood  for  those 
unpremeditated  words,  and  they  made  her  feel  how  deep 
his  spiritual  experiences  must  have  been;  but  in  truth 
the  phrase  meant  much  more  for  her  than  it  did  for 
him.  It  had  risen  to  his  lips  in  the  exigency  of  talking 
to  this  child  as  Faust  talked  to  Gretchen  about  God, 
and,  having  served  its  turn,  had  been  forgotten. 

Step  by  step  Wilhelmina  had  to  follow  those  who 
had  trod  the  same  path  before  her.  She  had  to  learn 
that,  although  the  light  came  at  first  without  measure  or 
stint,  the  lamp  must  be  carefully  watched  and  trimmed 
if  its  brightness  was  to  last.  However  much  leisure  she 
might  have  during  the  day,  nothing  would  ever  make 
up  for  the  hour  overslept  in  the  silence  of  the  morning. 

Once  when  she  reached  the  arbour  as  usual  before 
the  household  was  astir,  she  was  dismayed  to  find  Hugh 
already  in  possession. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Vilma,"  he  cried,  "  I  am  awfully  glad  to 
see  you.  Just  hear  me  run  over  these  beastly  irregular 
verbs,  will  you?  .  .  .  You  don't  mind,"  he  added,  catch- 
ing sight  of  her  fallen  face. 

"  Why,  of  course  I  am  glad  to  help  you,  Hugh,"  she 
answered  cheerfully,  resigning  herself  as  she  spoke  to  a 
day  of  spiritual  gloom. 

He  kept  her  hard  at  work  till  breakfast  time,  and 
then — what  was  her  surprise  to  find  her  lamp  burning 
more  brightly  than  if  she  had  spent  the  hour  in  prayer. 

As  the  freshness  of  the  new  experience  wore  off,  she 
began  to  read  more.  Sartor  Resartus  was  finished  under 
protest,  because  she  had  said  she  would  finish  it;  and 
then  she  plunged  "  soulf  orward  headlong "  into  books 
with  which,  by  a  curious  spiritual  instinct,  she  felt  her 


200  WINDYHAUGH. 

affinity  beforehand.  The  Devout  Life,  The  Imitation 
of  Christ,  The  Life  of  M'Cheyne,  and  others  of  varying 
literary  merit,  but  all  alight  with  the  divine  spark. 

She  began  to  go  to  church  twice  on  Sunday  too,  and 
to  attend  week-day  meetings  as  often  as  possible.  In 
this  way  she  made  the  acquaintance  of  those  who  were 
and  of  those  who  appeared  to  be,  like-minded  with  her- 
self; and  she  learned,  first,  the  delight,  and  then  the 
danger,  of  the  "  communion  of  saints "  on  earth.  It 
was  selfish  not  to  tell  of  the  great  things  one  had  seen 
and  felt,  and  yet — unless  one's  motives  were  pure  as 
gold  thrice  tried — how  apt  was  the  vision  to  vanish  in 
the  telling  of  it!  She  was  appalled  to  find  that  unless 
one  was  continually  on  guard,  earthly  vanities  and  rival- 
ries and  meannesses  were  ready  to  crop  up  like  weeds 
on  the  very  steps  of  the  Throne. 

She  had  pleasant  chats  with  Mr.  Darsie  at  this  time 
— chats  in  which  she  kept  well  on  the  outskirts  of  her 
religious  life.  He  had  a  great  belief  in  her  intellectual 
powers,  and  looked  forward  with  interest  to  the  day 
when  these  would  join  issue  with  her  religious  faith. 
Often  when  she  was  hovering  over  his  bookshelves  like  a 
bee  in  a  flower  garden,  he  was  tempted  to  lay  his  hand 
on  Kingsley,  Maurice,  or  Robertson,  but  something  re- 
strained him.  "  It's  bound  to  come,"  he  said  to  himself 
with  a  little  sigh,  "  but  I'll  no'  be  the  man  to  bring  it. 
She's  ower  far  ben." 

Wilhelmina  had  promised  to  write  to  the  Quakeress, 
and  the  latter  now  received  an  epistle  that  took  her 
breath  away.  She  answered  it  at  once  in  a  fervour  of 
appreciation,  and  thus  was  initiated  a  correspondence 
that  lasted  for  some  time.  The  leading  girl  and  the 
colonial  brunette  also  wrote  just  often  enough  to  keep 
Wilhelmina  in  touch  with  the  vanities  of  life.  Their 
letters  seemed  to  her  like  echoes  out  of  a  previous  in- 
carnation. 

Meanwhile  outward  events  were  moving  on  busily 
enough.  The  twelfth  of  August  found  her  alone  with 
the  servants  at  Windyhaugh.  A  couple  of  months  later 
the  horses  were  removed,  and  the  servants — all  save  Ann 
— dismissed.  Mr.  Galbraith  was  in  the  trough  of  the 


ON  THE  SEA-SHORE.  201 

wave  once  more.  Wilhelmina  had  become  deeply  at- 
tached to  Glamour  and  Isolde,  and  even  Oxford  had  a 
firm  place  in  her  regard.  There  were  not  a  dozen  beings 
in  the  world  whom  she  loved  more  dearly  than  she  did 
those  two  beautiful  racers,  and  her  only  consolation  in 
parting  with  them  was  the  fact  that  the  men  went  too. 
Hugh  told  her  when  he  left  that  he  believed  Miss  Eve- 
lyn was  engaged  to  Ronald  Dalrymple,  but  she  could 
not  believe  it.  She  allowed  herself  now  none  of  those 
delightful  day-dreams  that  had  so  brightened  the  gloom 
in  days  gone  by — was  not  every  thought  a  possible  link 
with  God? — but  even  in  her  schooldays  she  had  been 
one  of  those  girls  whose  views  on  the  subject  of  mar- 
riage are  a  curious  mixture  of  humility  and  pride.  The 
thought  of  any  actual  known  man  in  the  relation  of 
husband  (as  girls  understand  the  relation  of  husband) 
is  impossible,  and  yet — "  is  the  ideal  fairy  prince  likely 
to  ride  out  of  the  everywhere  just  for  poor  little  me  ? " 
Short  of  the  fairy  prince,  however,  humanity  could 
surely  afford  many  finer  types  than  Ronald  Dalrymple! 

After  all,  those  were  happy  days  that  Wilhelmina 
spent  alone  with  old  Ann  at  Windyhaugh.  She  did  not 
realize  how  completely  the  difficulties  and  temptations 
of  life  were  reduced  to  a  minimum.  "  Nothing  can  ever 
go  wrong  again,"  she  used  to  cry  exultingly  in  her 
heart.  "  Come  sorrow,  come  sickness,  come  blindness, 
come  death!  What  can  it  matter  to  me?  This  side 
the  veil  or  that — should  I  even  know  the  difference  ?  Is 
not  the  whole  of  the  universe  my  home  ? " 

Mr.  Galbraith  came  and  went,  but  he  was  moody  and 
distrait,  and  Wilhelmina  found  it  very  difficult  to  get 
into  touch  with  him.  They  had  some  happy  hours  to- 
gether in  the  billiard-room,  however,  and  she  took  pains 
to  keep  herself  in  practice  while  he  was  away. 

One  mild  afternoon  in  December  Mr.  Brentwood 
called. 

"  Mr.  Galbraith's  not  at  home,"  said  Ann ;  "  and  Miss 
Galbraith  is  down  on  the  shore.  If  you'll  step  in,  I'll 
go  and  fetch  her." 

"  No,  no,"  he  replied.  "  I  will  join  her  there."  He 
was  disappointed  not  to  see  Mr.  Galbraith,  and  yet  he 


202  WINDYHAUGH. 

was  surprised  to  feel  a  little  wave  of  pleasurable  ex- 
citement at  the  prospect  of  meeting  his  blue-bell 
alone. 

She  was  seated  on  a  jutting  reef  of  rock,  with  the 
green  water  tumbling  about  her.  He  had  to  speak  be- 
fore she  became  aware  of  his  presence,  but,  although  she 
was  taken  by  surprise,  her  smile  of  welcome  was  more 
self-possessed  than  formerly. 

"And  don't  you  find  it  dull  alone  here  at  Windy- 
haugh  ? "  he  said  when  they  had  exchanged  a  few  con- 
ventional remarks. 

A  rosy  blush  mantled  her  face.  She  could  not  tell 
him  how  very  far  she  was  from  being  "  alone." 

"  Oh,  no!"  she  said  with  unconscious  reverence. 

He  looked  surprised,  and  it  was  a  minute  before  he 
proceeded — "  So  life  has  ceased  to  be  difficult  ?  " 

She  smiled.     "  Yes.     Life  is  easy." 

"  You  have  found  the  key  then  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  And  where  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Just  there.  I  suppose  my  eyes  were 
holden." 

He  sighed.  How  easy  it  was  for  a  flowerlike  nature 
like  hers  to  find  peace  and  light!  She  did  not  seem  to 
expect  conventional  conversation  from  him,  so  he  looked 
out  over  the  grey-green  sea,  moodily  recalling  that  poem 
of  Heine's — 

"  Am  Meer,  am  wiisten,  nachtlicben  Meer 
Steht  ein  Jiingling-Mann, 

Die  Brust  voll  Wehmuth,  das  Haupt  voll  Zweifel, 
TJnd  mit  diistern  Lippen  fragt  er  die  Wogen : 

"  '  O  lost  mir  das  Eathsel  des  Lebens, 
Das  qualvoll  uralte  Eathsel, 
Woriiber  schon  manche  Haupter  gegriibelt, 
Haupter  in  Hieroglyphenmiitzen, 
Haupter  in  Turban  und  schwarzem  Barett, 
Periickenhaupter  und  tausend  andere 
Arme,  schwitzende  Menschenhaupter — 
Sagt  mir,  was  bedeutet  der  Mensch  ? 
Woher  ist  er  kommen  ?    Wo  geht  er  bin  ? 
Wer  wobnt  dort  oben  auf  goldenen  Sternen  ? ' 


ON  THE  SEA-SHORE.  203 

"  Es  murmeln  die  Wogen  ihr  ew'ges  Gemurmel, 
Es  wehet  der  Wind,  es  fliehen  die  Wolken, 
Es  blinken  die  Sterne  gleichgiiltig  und  kalt, 
Und  ein  Narr  wartet  auf  Antwort." 

He  repeated  the  last  line  aloud,  rashly  assuming  that 
she  would  not  understand. 

But  the  assumption  was  correct. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  "  she  asked  smiling. 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  a  nonsense  rhyme.  I  beg  your  par- 
don for  thinking  aloud." 

A  deeper  blush  than  before  crept  over  her  face. 
"  You  said  something  very  beautiful  about  the  sea  once," 
she  said  shyly.  "  I  think  of  it  so  often  when  I  am  sit- 
ting here  or  lying  awake  at  night  listening  to  the  waves." 

"What  did  I  say?" 

Her  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper.  "  It  was  about 
throwing  oneself  like  an  unattached  sea-weed  into  the 
ocean  of  God." 

It  was  his  turn  now  to  blush,  though  fortunately  his 
tanned  complexion  did  not  show  the  warm  blood  as 
hers  did. 

The  pendulum  was  rather  at  the  opposite  end  of  its 
swing  that  time,"  he  said  to  himself  with  a  grim  inward 
smile. 

He  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  she  was  not  daintily 
dressed  as  before,  and  yet  she  was  full  of  charm.  He 
was  just  a  little  piqued  by  her  obvious  independence  of 
him  and  his  society.  A  young  girl's  religion  was  a 
matter  of  course,  and  yet  there  was  something  here  that 
tempted  him  to  probe  a  little  deeper. 

"  You  are  very  happy,"  he  said  as  he  rose  to  go. 

She  smiled  radiantly. 

"  Tell  me  your  secret,  Miss  Galbraith." 

~$o  one  who  held  the  views  she  did  could  refuse  such 
an  appeal;  and  besides — had  he  not  ears  to  hear? — did 
he  not  know  better  than  she  what  the  inner  life  meant? 
She  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  now  she  clasped  her 
hands  behind  her  head,  as  if  the  change  of  attitude 
would  aid  her  in  the  search  for  words.  Her  face  was 
very  pale,  and  her  well-poised  figure  swayed  almost  im- 
perceptibly in  the  soft  sea-breeze. 
14 


204:  WINDYHAUGH. 

"'For  I  am  persuaded,'"  she  said  in  a  low  throb- 
bing voice,  "'that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels, 
nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things  present,  nor 
things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other 
creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of 
God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.' " 

And  that  was  the  mental  picture  he  carried  away  the 
second  time. 

Alas,  that  Wilhelmina  was  forced  to  be  the  child  of 
her  century  after  all! 


CHAPTEK  XXX. 

A   LOST   OPPORTUNITY. 

As  the  evenings  grew  long,  Mr.  Carmichael  began  to 
deliver  a  course  of  week-day  lectures  on  the  Minor 
Prophets.  The  first  two  lectures  were  well  attended,  but 
on  the  evening  of  the  third  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and 
a  mere  handful  of  people  assembled  in  the  hall. 

Wilhelmina  started  in  good  time,  but  the  wind  was 
against  her,  and  when  she  arrived,  the  minister  was  al- 
ready in  his  place.  For  a  moment  she  stood  hesitating 
at  the  door,  dazzled  by  the  gaslight,  and  conscious  for 
the  first  time  of  her  wind-tossed  hair  and  mud-splashed 
boots.  A  roaring  fire  reflected  on  the  well-scoured 
planks  like  the  sun  in  a  pool. 

"  Come  well  forward,  please,  Miss  Galbraith,"  said 
Mr.  Carmichael's  pleasant  voice.  "  We  are  so  few  to- 
night that  we  must  rally  our  forces." 

Of  course  she  obeyed  at  once — though  he  had  no  idea 
of  the  effort  the  obedience  cost  her — and  so  brought  her 
eager  responsive  face  within  range  of  his  pastoral  eye. 
Only  the  man  who  knows  what  it  is  to  address  in  all 
earnestness  a  small  and  phlegmatic  audience  realizes 
how  much  that  responsive  face  means,  even  if  it  be  a 
young  girl's. 

Mr.  Carmichael  had  not  been  blind  to  the  fervour  of 


A  LOST  OPPORTUNITY.  205 

his  young  parishioner,  but  experience  had  made  him 
wise,  and  he  was  in  no  hurry  to  fan  the  flame.  "  The 
human  soul  can  never  be  so  safely  left  to  itself,"  he  had 
said  once  to  Mr.  Darsie,  "  as  when  it  first  catches  sight 
of  God.  Who  am  I  that  I  should  thrust  my  blundering 
personality  all  out  of  focus  into  the  beatific  vision? 
By  and  bye  when  the  mists  begin  to  rise,  as  rise  they 
surely  will,  one  may  be  able  to  do  a  little — a  very  little." 

But,  although  he  had  certainly  given  her  no  reason  to 
guess  the  fact,  he  had  seldom  felt  so  deep  an  interest 
in  a  young  girl  as  he  now  did  in  Wilhelmina.  The 
whole  circumstances  of  her  life  appealed  strongly  to  his 
fancy — her  irresistible  inexplicable  father,  her  anoma- 
lous social  position,  the  genuineness  of  her  religion,  her 
lonely  life  in  the  sea-bound  homestead — she  seemed  to 
him  to  carry  about  with  her  always  the  sough  of  the 
waves  and  trees  at  Windyhaugh. 

Wilhelmina  had  not  proceeded  far  on  her  homeward 
way  that  night  when  the  minister  overtook  her. 

"  Alone,  Miss  Galbraith?  "  he  said. 

She  started.  "  I  usually  have  Ann's  company.  To- 
day it  was  too  wet  for  her." 

"  Then  you  must  let  me  take  Ann's  place  for  a  mile 
or  two." 

"  Oh,  please  don't !  "  she  cried  in  genuine  disappoint- 
ment and  distress.  "  I  know  every  step  of  the  way. 
What  harm  could  befall  me  here  ?  " 

What  harm  indeed  ?  How  often  had  she  passed  over 
that  road  scarcely  feeling  the  ground  under  her  feet  for 
very  rapture! 

"Nevertheless,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  would  like  to 
come  a  little  way.  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  Don't  you 
think  it  is  time  you  were  taking  a  class  in  Sunday- 
school?" 

"  Oh,  no !  " 

He  did  not  reply,  and  as  they  walked  on  in  the  dark- 
ness, she  wondered  whether  she  had  offended  him. 

"  It  is  not  that  I  mean  to  be  always  saying  *  No,' " 
she  said  shyly;  "but  of  that  one  thing  I  must  be  the 
best  judge,  must  I  not  ? " 

"I  don't  know."     He  spoke  judicially,  divided  be- 


206  WINDYHAUGH. 

tween  his  desire  to  set  her  to  work,  and  his  fear  of  mak- 
ing her  vain.  "  The  Lord's  best  work  is  sometimes  done 
with  faulty  instruments." 

"  I  know — oh,  I  do  know  that.  My  music-master 
used  often  to  tell  us  how  a  street  fiddle  in  the  hands  of 
a,  master  is  a  finer  thing  than  a  Stradivarius  in  the 
hands  of — one  of  us.  I  often  think  of  that.  I  don't 
mind  being  only  a  street  fiddle  if — if — oh,  Mr.  Car- 
michael,  one  can't  talk  of  these  things;  but  don't  you 
think  I  should  be  only  too  glad  if  I  could  say  that  the 
strings  of  me  only  responded  to  the  touch  of  the  Mas- 
ter?" 

She  had  begun  to  speak  in  all  singleness  of  heart. 
Before  she  had  finished  she  was  struck  by  the  fineness 
of  the  sentiment  she  was  expressing,  and  she  was  disap- 
pointed that  he  did  not  reply. 

In  truth  three  different  answers  had  chased  each 
other  through  his  mind,  but  he  had  allowed  none  of  them 
to  find  voice.  "  How  many  of  our  teachers  do  you  sup- 
pose attain  that  level  ? "  was  the  first ;  but  that  only 
lingered  long  enough  to  invoke  the  second — " '  Beware, 
oh  Teuf  elsdrockh,  of  spiritual  pride ! ' '  And  then  he 
sighed.  "  Alas,  child,"  he  thought,  "  do  you  think  you 
will  ever  reach  the  goal  you  have  set  before  you  ? " 

He  felt  that  he  was  not  in  a  pastoral  mood  that  night 
— the  weather  and  the  thinness  of  his  audience  had  de- 
pressed him  in  spite  of  himself;  so,  like  a  wise  man,  he 
shook  off  the  parson  altogether,  and  allowed  himself  to 
be  recreated  by  the  society  of  his  young  companion. 
Wilhelmina  was  very  ready  to  follow  his  lead  to  a  friend- 
ly human  level. 

"  My  mother  is  coming  to-morrow  to  visit  me,"  he 
said  at  parting,  "  and  I  mean  to  avail  myself  of  her 
presence  to  return  in  a  quiet  way  a  little  of  the  hospi- 
tality the  friends  here  have  shown  me.  Do  you  think 
you  could  come  to  the  manse  some  evening?  It  is  a 
long  way,  I  know,  and  we  old  folks  are  not  very  enter- 
taining, but  I  should  like  you  to  meet  my  mother." 

Her  eyes  danced  at  the  prospect  of  the  "  ploy."  In 
spite  of  all  her  efforts,  human  nature  died  hard,  and 
months  had  passed  since  she  had  taken  part  in  any  social 


A  LOST  OPPORTUNITY.  207 

gaiety.  Surely  there  could  be  no  harm  in  going  to  a 
party  at  the  manse.  "  I  should  love  to  come,"  she  said 
warmly. 

She  began  at  once  to  wonder  what  she  would  wear 
on  the  great  occasion.  Miss  Evelyn  had  been  as  good 
as  her  word,  and  her  maid,  with  the  help  of  a  seamstress, 
had  run  up  two  charming  muslin  gowns  for  Wilhelmma 
in  dainty  shades  of  pink  and  blue. 

"  I  will  wear  the  blue,"  she  thought.     "  It  is  quieter." 

Quieter.  Yes,  she  ought  to  dress  quietly.  Was  she 
not  a  child  of  light?  Then,  with  a  rush  of  shame,  she 
realized  how  worldly  her  thoughts  had  been.  "  Vanity, 
vanity,  vanity !  "  she  cried.  "  What  a  graceless  wretch 
I  am!" 

She  remembered  then  how  the  minister  had  failed  to 
respond  to  her  sentiment  about  the  violins.  "  He 
thought  I  was  posing,"  she  thought  humiliated;  and  a 
moment  later  she  added,  truly  humbled,  "  and  he  was 
right :  I  was  posing.  Oh,  God,  I  have  attained  nothing. 
Help  me  to  begin  all  over  again,  here  at  Thy  feet !  " 

By  way  of  a  first  step  she  resolved  to  go  to  the  party 
in  her  everyday  wincey  frock ;  but,  on  hearing  this,  Ann 
was  really  roused. 

"  Sma'  respect  ye'd  be  showing  to  your  hostess,"  she 
cried  indignantly — "  let  alone  the  minister  himseP !  An' 
what  do  ye  think  the  folks'll  say?  Ye  think  maybe 
they'll  talk  o'  the  ornaments  o'  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit? 
Hoot  awa!  They'll  be  for  saying  that  Mr.  Galbraith 
canna  gie  his  bairn  a  decent  gown  to  her  back.  Puir 
lamb!  Puir  lamb!  He  surely  has  eneugh  to  answer 
for,  forbye  that." 

Ann's  apron  went  to  her  eyes,  and  the  blue  frock  was 
worn  accordingly.  Moreover  it  exercised  its  due  effect 
on  the  wearer's  estimate  of  herself,  and  throughout  the 
evening  she  was  gay  and  talkative,  winning  the  admira- 
tion, and  in  some  cases  even  the  hearts,  of  the  other 
guests.  Perhaps  she  talked  a  little  more  than  in  those 
days  was  considered  becoming  to  her  years,  for  the 
strong  tea  and  the  unaccustomed  excitement  went  to  her 
head  like  wine ;  but  at  worst  it  was  simple  bright  girlish 
talk,  and  her  voice  was  a  pleasant  one  at  all  times. 


208  WINDYHAUGH. 

It  sounds  like  an  exaggeration,  but  her  feelings  when 
she  awoke  next  morning  enabled  her  in  after  life  to  ap- 
preciate the  sufferings  of  a  young  man  of  good  impulses 
on  the  day  after  a  debauch.  The  people  who  had  envied 
the  child  her  lightheartedness  the  night  before  would 
have  been  surprised  if  they  could  have  seen  her  now  in 
deep  remorse  and  sorrow  fervently  repeating  the  fifty- 
first  Psalm.  She  had  meant  to  let  her  light  shine  before 
men,  and  behold,  when  the  moment  came,  she  had  for- 
gotten all  about  it! 

"  I  see  I  must  give  up  the  world  altogether"  she  said. 
"  Other  people  may  be  able  to  dally  unharmed  with  its 
temptations;  but  it  is  full  of  pit-falls  for  me." 

Next  morning,  to  her  great  surprise,  she  received  a 
letter  from  Mrs.  Dalrymple. 

"DEAR  LITTLE  VILMA:  What  an  age  it  seems  since  I 
saw  you!  When  I  reflect  on  the  depressing  subject  of 
dates,  I  suppose  you  must  be  quite  grown  up;  and  a 
little  bird  whispers  in  my  ear  (though  of  course  I  should 
not  tell  you  this)  that  you  are  pretty. 

"  I  wonder  what  you  do  with  yourself  at  queer  old 
Windyhaugh?  Are  you  becoming  very  wise  and  learn- 
ed ? — or  are  you,  like  Mr.  Micawber,  l  falling  back  for 
a  spring  of  no  ordinary  magnitude '  ?  I  expect  to  be 
in  Edinburgh  soon.  Would  you  like  to  come  and  lunch 
with  me  somewhere?  If  there  happens  to  be  anything 
good  in  the  theatres,  we  might  drop  in  for  an  hour  or 
two  in  the  afternoon.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  too  about 
your  future.  I  don't  believe  in  '  blushing  unseen,'  and, 
if  I  am  in  town  next  season,  you  must  come  to  me  for  a 
month  or  two,  and  have  a  good  time.  We  will  manage 
the  frocks  somehow. — In  great  haste, 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"ENID  DALRYMPLE." 

"  How  kind  she  is !  "  said  Wilhelmina,  and  then  her 
eyes  shone.  "  God  is  putting  me  to  the  test  very  soon." 

It  was  natural  that  she  should  think  the  renunciation 
greater  than  it  really  was.  In  point  of  fact  the  letter 
found  her  in  the  exalted  mood  that  lies  out  of  reach  of 


A  LOST  OPPORTUNITY.  209 

such  sacrifices.     She  was  sorry  to  seem  ungracious,  but, 
for  the  moment,  that  was  all. 

She  attached  enormous  importance  to  her  answer. 
In  the  hands  of  Omnipotence,  what  might  it  not  achieve  ? 
When  finally  transcribed  in  a  neat  hand  on  cheap  note- 
paper,  it  was  the  outcome — the  disappointing  outcome 
I  admit — of  many  fervent  prayers. 

"DEAR  AUNT  ENID:  I  can't  give  you  the  least  idea 
how  delighted  I  was  to  get  your  letter.  I  am  very 
happy  at  '  queer  old  Windyhaugh,'  and  yet  it  did  me 
good  to  think  you  had  not  forgotten  me. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  treat  to  meet  you  in  Edinburgh, 
but  I  must  not  go  to  the  theatre,  and  I  must  not  come 
to  you  in  London  for  the  season.  I  don't  mean  to  say 
that  such  amusements  are  wrong,  but  I  don't  seem  able 
to  join  in  them  without  losing  something  that  I  value 
more. 

" '  God  fulfils  Himself  in  many  ways,'  and  it  may  be 
that  He  means  me  to  walk  in  the  twilight — save  for  the 
light  of  His  presence. 

"  Again  thanking  you  a  hundred  times,  I  am, 
"  Your  affectionate  niece, 

"  WlLHELMINA    GrALBRAITII." 

Ronald  Dalrymple  was  alone  with  Enid  when  she  re- 
ceived this  missive. 

"  Ugh !  "  she  exclaimed,  turning  away  her  head  in 
dainty  disgust. 

"  What's  wrong  ?— patchouli  ?  " 

"  Not  patchouli ;  but  it  is  reeking,  simply  reeking — 
with  spiritual  pride.  Head  it." 

His  face  was  a  study  as  he  laid  it  down;  but  he  did 
not  speak  at  once. 

"  I  hope  you  will  meet  her  in  Edinburgh,"  he  said  at 
last.  "  She'll  take  you  to  a  Salvation  Army  conven- 
ticle." 

Enid's  lip  curled.  "I  don't  fancy  I  shall  trouble 
her  this  time.  How  I  hate  that  word  i  niece  ' !  " 

"  You  think  it  just  misses  being  nice,"  he  observed 
flippantly. 


210  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  For  shame,  Ronald !     Leave  that  to  Hugh." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  your  fair — relative's — letter  suits 
your  book  very  well  in  spite  of  its — aroma  ? " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  confess  I  should 
like  to  know  what  George  Galbraith  will  say  when  he 
hears  of  it.  The  child  can't  have  consulted  him.  He 
has  been  gracefully  fishing  for  that  invitation  since  Wil- 
helmina  was  a  baby." 

Ronald  laughed.  "  I  thought  you  wouldn't  be  able 
to  hold  out  if  you  met  him  again.  What  a  relief  that 
woman's  death  must  have  been !  " 

"  I  certainly  should  have  held  out  if  you  hadn't  as- 
sured me  that  Wilhelmina  was  pretty  and — and  simple- 
hearted." 

"  Well,  by  Jove,  I  thought  she  was,  but  there  is  no 
being  up  to  the  tricks  of  a  filly.  It  is  uncommonly 
rough  on  Galbraith  I  must  say.  He  is  frightfully  down 
on  his  luck  just  now,  and  I  thought  I  had  heard  of 
something  that  would  suit  him  down  to  the  ground.  A 
young  fellow  I  met  in  the  States,  whose  father  made  a 
pile  over  pepsin  or  soap  or  something,  wants  to  make 
the  grand  tour,  and  get  put  up  to  all  the  things  that 
money  can't  reach.  I  told  him  Galbraith  was  his  man, 
and  hinted  gracefully  that  no  ordinary  honorarium 
would  tempt  him.  Galbraith  had  only  to  sell  Windy- 
haugh  and  marry  Wilhelmina,  and  the  trick  was  done 
— for  this  time." 

Enid's  smile  was  not  encouraging.  "  Marry  Wilhel- 
mina to  the  American  millionaire,  1  suppose  ? " 

"Oh,  Lord,  no!  The  boy  isn't  half  bad.  If  Gal- 
braith trots  him  out,  he'll  end  by  marrying  a  peeress  in 
her  own  right." 

Enid  might  well  wish  that  she  could  hear  what  Wil- 
helmina's  father  would  say  when  he  heard  of  her  deci- 
sion. She  would  have  appreciated,  though  not  quite  at 
its  true  value,  the  interview  that  took  place  a  few  days 
after  the  momentous  letter  was  written. 

Mr.  Galbraith  had  expected  to  be  at  Windyhaugh 
when  the  invitation  came,  but  he  had  been  detained  in 
town  for  a  few  days,  and  he  arrived  now  unexpectedly, 


A  LOST  OPPORTUNITY.  211 

late  in  the  evening.  As  a  rule  Wilhelmina  seemed  to 
know  by  a  sort  of  instinct  when  he  was  near;  but  to- 
night no  one  ran  to  meet  him  at  the  door,  and  as  he 
hung  up  his  hat  in  the  hall,  he  heard,  for  the  first  time 
since  his  boyhood,  the  quavering  notes  of  his  mother's 
old  spinet.  The  drawing-room  door  stood  open,  and 
Wilhelmina  was  softly  striking  the  notes  of  a  weird 
monotonous  chant.  Presently  her  girlish  voice  joined 
in — 

"  '  My  soul  is  not  at  rest.  There  comes  a  strange  and 
secret  whisper  to  my  spirit,  like  a  dream  of  night,  that 
tells  me  I  am  on  enchanted  ground.  The  vows  of  God 
are  on  me  and  I  may  not  stop  to  play  with  shadows  or 
pluck  earthly  flowers.  The  voice  of  my  departed  Lord 
— "  Go,  teach  all  nations,"  comes  on  the  night  air,  and 
awakes  mine  ear. 

"'And  I  must  go.  Henceforth  it  matters  not  if 
storm  or  sunshine  be  my  earthly  lot — bitter  or  sweet  my 
cup.  I  only  pray  "  God  make  me  holy,  and  my  spirit 
nerve  for  the  stern  hour  of  strife !  "  And  when  I  come 
to  stretch  me  at  the  last  in  unattended  agony  beneath 
the  cocoa's  shade,  it  will  be  sweet  to  know  that  I  have 
toiled  for  other  worlds  than  this.' " 

The  spinet  was  old,  the  words  crude,  the  voice  un- 
trained, but  the  passionate  thrill  of  religious  fervour  was 
not  lost  on  George  Galbraith.  When  the  last  faint 
chord  died  away,  he  was  surprised  to  find  his  hand  still 
raised  in  the  act  of  hanging  up  his  hat. 

He  passed  unobserved  to  his  room,  and  rang  for  hot 
water.  He  did  not  wish  his  daughter  to  know  that  he 
had  heard  her  song. 

"  My  word,  sir,  but  ye're  a  sicht  for  sair  een ! " 
cried  Ann.  "Does  Miss  Wilhelmina  know  that  ye're 
here?" 

"  Tell  her  I  am  dressing,  and  shall  be  down  to  sup- 
per presently." 

The  old  woman's  face  fell.  "  If  I  had  but  kent  you 
was  coming !  " 

He  looked  at  her  with  that  pleasant  weary  smile  of 
his.  "  I  am  quite  content  with  pot-luck,  Ann,"  he  said 


212  WINDYHAUGH. 

gently.  "Porridge  and  milk,  or  bread  and  cheese,  is 
food  for  a  king." 

He  poured  out  the  hot  water,  and  then  stood  medi- 
tating. 

"  Very  pretty,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  extremely  pretty 
and  taking;  but  just  at  this  stage — it  won't  do" 

Ann's  supper,  as  it  chanced,  really  was  food  for  a 
king — fresh  salmon  trout,  and  a  bottle  of  old  sherry 
from  the  cellar. 

Mr.  Galbraith's  mood  was  so  quiet  and  yet  so  genial 
that  Wilhelmina's  affection  for  him  rose  in  full  tide, 
and  when  supper  was  over  she  seated  herself  confidingly 
on  the  arm  of  his  great  chair. 

He  drew  her  down  on  his  knee. 

"  Is  it  still  my  little  girl  ? "  he  said  kindly. 

She  nodded,  smiling.     "  Still." 

"  But  she  is  growing  such  a  big  girl !  And  they  tell 
me  that  she  is  going  'to  London  to  see  the  Queen/ 
Then  I  shall  have  a  grand  lady  to  be  proud  of,  instead 
of  a  kitten  to  play  with." 

Wilhelmina's  heart  seemed  to  rise  with  a  great  throb 
into  her  throat.  Not  till  this  moment  had  it  occurred 
to  her  that  her  father  knew  of  Mrs.  Dalrymple's  let- 
ter. "  No,  no,  I  am  not  going  to  London,"  she  said 
quickly. 

He  drew  down  his  brows  as  if  in  amused  perplexity. 

"Not  going  to  London?  Hasn't  your  aunt  written 
to  you?" 

"Yes.     Such  a  kind  letter.     But  I  must  not  go." 

He  laughed  good-humouredly.  "  Silly  child !  So  she 
is  shy,  is  she?" 

"No;  it  is  not  that.  I  am  not  shy;  at  least — I 
think  the  shyness  would  soon  wear  off,  and  I  should  en- 
joy it.  But  that  is  just  why  I  must  not  go." 

He  leaned  forward  to  stir  the  fire,  and  then  met  her 
eyes  with  a  smile. 

"  Then  she  must  go  to  please  her  old  father." 

Wilhelmina's  face  burned.  "  Oh,  Father,"  she  cried, 
"  I  can't !  I  have  written  to  Aunt  Enid  to  tell  her  so." 

It  was  a  full  minute  before  he  spoke. 

"  Have  you  posted  the  letter  ?  " 


A  LOST  OPPORTUNITY.  213 

"Yes,  two  days  ago." 

Another  long  silence.  Then  he  released  her  from 
the  clasp  of  his  arm,  and  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  half- 
suppressed  yawn.  Wilhelmina  had  never  seen  his  face 
so  devoid  of  expression. 

"  It  is  later  than  I  thought,"  he  said  indifferently. 
"  Good-night." 

And  thus  she  was  destined  to  learn  that  spiritual  vic- 
tories are  not  to  be  won  so  cheaply  after  all! 

She  had  expected  him  to  propose  a  game  of  billiards 
as  usual,  but  now,  with  a  heart  of  lead,  she  responded 
to  his  Good-night,  and  left  the  room.  This  was  the 
first  time  any  cloud  had  come  between  her  and  her  fa- 
ther, and  she  felt  it  acutely.  "Am  I  wrong?  Am  I 
wrong  ? "  she  asked  herself  over  and  over  again.  For 
hours  she  remained  on  her  knees  without  getting  any 
fresh  light. 

"  The  friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  against  God," 
said  an  inward  voice. 

"Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother,"  said  another. 

All  through  the  night,  sleeping  and  waking,  Wilhel- 
mina swung  from  one  extreme  to  the  other.  Now  she 
was  writing  a  humble  letter  of  apology  to  Enid :  now  she 
was  standing  heroically  to  her  principles.  When  at 
length  she  rose,  weary  and  unrefreshed,  she  had  come  to 
no  definite  decision. 

She  had  scarcely  finished  dressing  when  Ann  knocked 
at  the  door. 

"  The  Master  would  like  to  see  you,  miss,"  she  said. 
"He  is  leaving  by  the  early  train." 

"  Isn't  he  going  to  have  breakfast  ?  " 

"He  breakfasted  in  his  room  an  hour  ago.  .  .  . 
Don't  cross  him,  Miss  Wilhelmina;  he  has  had  so  much 
against  him  all  his  life !  " 

Pale  and  heavy-eyed,  Wilhelmina  hurried  downstairs. 
Her  father  was  writing  a  letter — his  back  was  turned 
to  the  light." 

"  Sit  down,  Wilhelmina,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  have 
not  much  time  to  spare,  but  I  should  like  you — if  pos- 
sible— to  understand  my  position  in  this  matter  before 
we  drop  the  subject  finally.  Of  course  I  am  rather  sur- 


214  WINDYHAUGH. 

prised  that  you  should  have  settled  so  important  a  ques- 
tion in  this  impulsive  fashion,  but " 

"Oh,  Father! "  she  cried. 

He  held  up  his  hand. 

"  I  am  quite  aware  that  you  have  a  dozen  excellent 
motives  for  what  you  have  done.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
could  give  chapter  and  verse  for  any  statement  you 
have  made  in  your  letter  to  your  aunt.  As  time  is  short, 
I  must  ask  you  to  believe  that  I  fully  understand  your 
point  of  view.  The  experience  you  are  passing  through 
is  not,  as  you  imagine,  unique;  it  is  common  to  a  very 
large  proportion  of  the  human  race." 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  said  in  all  seriousness,  yet  stung 
by  his  tone. 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  strange  little  smile.  "  On 
the  other  hand,  I  give  you  credit  for  fully  average  in- 
telligence, and  you  must  try  to  realize  that  in  what  you 
are  pleased  to  call  *  the  world '  there  are  women  quite  as 
good  as  you  can  ever  hope  to  be." 

"  Oh,  Father,  I  know  that." 

"  Pardon  me,  you  do  not  know  it.  You  may  believe 
it — with  a  mental  reservation  concerning  a  special  call- 
ing on  your  part — but  that  is  a  very  different  thing. 
Believe  me  then  when  I  tell  you  that  there  are  good 
and  gracious  and  high-minded  women  whose  very  ex- 
istence is  an  inspiration  to  the  men  who  rule  the  world. 
Place  you  with  such  men,  and  what  would  they  see  in 
you?  A  little  school-girl — ignorant,  awkward,  gauche. 
Attractive,  no  doubt.  In  a  young  girl  one  overlooks — 
nay,  one  admires — a  thousand  little  lovable  gaucheries; 
but  you  can't  remain  a  girl  for  ever,  and  gaucherie  in 
a  woman  is  a  very  different  thing.  You  are  all  but  a 
woman  now  in  years,  and  yet  everything  you  do  claims 
the  indulgence  one  concedes  to  a  very  young  girl. 

"  You  are  utterly  ignorant  of  life,  and  you  should 
learn  to  see  it,  not  through  the  eyes  of  a  provincial 
bourgeoise,  but  through  those  of  a  wide-minded  cul- 
tured woman  of  the  world.  You  wish  to  do  great  things, 
and  yet  you  decline  to  serve  your  apprenticeship.  You 
are  not  stupid.  If  you  had  formed  a  just  estimate  of 
yourself  and  your  capabilities,  surely  you  would  have 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  215 

been  glad  humbly  to  learn  of  the  good  and  wise,  before 
placing  yourself  on  a  pedestal  in  this  fashion.  Are  you 
afraid  of  being  too  refined,  too  well-tempered,  a  weapon 
for  the  armoury  of  the  Lord?  Must  He  make  the  best 
of  a  clumsy  ill-shaped  tool?  No  doubt  you  find  much 
that  is  edifying  in  the  society  of  your  sisters  in  the 
Lord;  but  I  do  not  observe  that  they  have  taught  you 
that  which  will  make  your  teaching  acceptable  in  the 
eyes  of  the  sinners  you  wish  to  reach.  You  have  be- 
come careless  of  your  dress,  careless  of  your  hair,  care- 
less how  you  rise  up  and  how  you  sit  down.  There  is 
a  button  wanting  on  your  gown.  If  I  am  not  mistaken 
the  same  button  was  wanting  when  I  was  here  a  month 
ago.  Of  course  all  this  may  be  a  recommendation  in  the 
eyes  of  some  people,  but  so  few  of  us  can  rise  to  that 
level!  An  earthen  vessel  may  hold  the  water  of  life, 
and  yet  one  would  rather  drink  from  a  silver  cup." 

"  Father,"  said  Wilhelmina  in  a  stifled  voice,  "  I  will 
write  to  Aunt  Enid,  and  tell  her  I  was — foolish  and — 
and  ignorant.  She  will  ask  me  again." 

He  had  sealed  his  letter,  and  now  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Spare  me  that  last  humiliation,  Wilhelmina,"  he 
said.  "  That  is  one  of  the  things  people  do  not  do. 
You  have  made  your  choice.  At  least  have  the  pluck 
to  abide  by  it.  Good-bye." 

He  touched  her  forehead  with  his  lips  and  left  the 
house. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

BROTHER   AND    SISTER. 

" AWAKE,  Hal?" 

"  Ye-es,"  said  a  drowsy  voice. 

"Better?" 

"  Ever  so.     I'd  sell  my  soul  for  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  Dear  heart !     That  is  easily  got." 

Miss   Brentwood   left   the   room,   and   presently  re- 


216  WINDYHAUGH. 

turned  with  a  tea-tray  daintily  arranged  for  two. 
"  Shall  I  draw  up  the  blind? " 

"  Do.     I  love  to  see  our  tame  pine-wood." 

It  was  little  wonder  that  Hugh  Dalrymple  had  been 
impressed  by  Brentwood's  sister.  She  was  one  of  those 
statuesque  women  who  transcend  the  changing  dictates 
of  fashion.  When  others  were  intent  on  frizzling,  frills, 
and  rampant  furbelows,  she  never  discarded  her  braids 
and  folds  and  drooping  plumes;  and  yet  the  most  friv- 
olous did  not  call  her  out  of  date.  She  never  seemed 
to  be  in  a  hurry;  and  in  all  she  did  there  was  a  fine 
breadth  of  movement  that  was  very  restful  to  irritable 
nerves. 

She  sipped  her  tea  in  silence,  waiting  till  her  brother 
chose  to  speak.  His  face  was  pale  and  haggard. 

"  The  sheer  bliss,"  he  said,  "  of  just  being  out  of 
pain !  " 

"  Poor  old  boy !  You  have  been  doing  too  much. 
I  wish  you  would  remember  that  our  bread  is  given  and 
our  water  sure." 

"  That  doesn't  alter  the  fact  that  my  article  will  be 
unseasonable  after  September — or  October  at  the  latest. 
'No,  I  haven't  done  too  much.  Railway  travelling  al- 
ways knocks  me  up  now-a-days;  but  I  am  all  right 
now." 

"  Well,  you  must  not  get  up  till  dinner-time.  Shall 
I  read  to  you  ?  " 

"  Presently,  if  you  will  ?  How  did  you  get  on  with 
Aunt  Marian  ?  " 

"  Famously.  She  wishes  you  would  marry,  and  leave 
me  to  bear  her  company  for  good." 

"  I  like  that !  And  you  are  to  remain  celibate  for 
her  sake?  I  hope  you  told  her  I  am  not  in  the  least 
likely  to  marry." 

Honor  laughed  mischievously — 

"  '  I  really  must  contrive  to  be 

Less  pleasant, — if  I  can  ; 
And  Kate  must  tell  her  candidly, 
I'm  not  a  marrying  man.' 

"Don't  brag,  Hal.     Heaven  knows  I  don't  grudge 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  217 

you  a  good  wife ;  and  you  needn't  be  afraid  that  I  shall 
play  the  jealous  sister  when  you  find  her." 

"  I  wish  you  had  been  with  me,  Honor." 

"  You  enjoyed  it  then  on  the  whole  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  enjoyed  it  immensely — especially  the  tramp 
through  Kent.  It  was  a  first-rate  idea  of  yours  that 
1  In  the  Hop  Country.'  For  a  wonder  I  rather  fancy 
the  article  myself,  and  I  have  got  some  stunning  nega- 
tives to  illustrate  it." 

"  How  delightful !  I  will  s.tart  the  printing  to-mor- 
row." 

"Yes,  you  will  have  to  hurry  up."  He  paused.  A 
smile  of  recollection  broke  over  his  face. 

"  I'll  tell  you  an  awfully  pretty  thing  that  happened ; 
and  yet  I  shall  only  spoil  it  in  the  telling.  When  I  was 
first  setting  out  from  Charing  Cross,  who  should  I  meet 
on  the  platform  but  Mr.  Galbraith — you  remember  ?  " 

Her  smile  was  a  very  pleasant  one  to  see.  "  I  should 
think  I  do  remember,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  I  was  travelling  third-class,  and  he  came  into  the 
same  carriage.  We  were  alone  in  it  except  for  a  young 
woman — by  way  of  being  a  lady. 

"At  Cannon  Street  some  hoppers  joined  the  train,  and 
one  got  into  our  carriage  who  simply  made  me  shudder. 
A  girl  of  seventeen  or  so — heavy  bang  down  to  her  eyes, 
greasy  clothes  adorned  with  feathers  and  jewellery,  snub 
nose,  open  mouth — !  I  assure  you,  Honor,  it  took 
greater  ( love  and  strength '  than  mine  to  l  re-write  the 
obliterated  charter.'  She  had  all  her  luggage  with  her 
— an  amorphous  bundle  done  up  in  sacking,  just  botch- 
ing with  microbes.  I  glanced  commiseratingly  at  Mr. 
Galbraith — but  I  might  have  known  he  wouldn't  meet  my 
eye.  He  was  looking  through  an  illustrated  paper,  and 
presently  he  handed  it  to  the  hop-girl  with  a  gesture  just 
as  courtly,  just  as  simple,  as  if  she  had  been  a  duchess." 

Honor  bit  her  lip.     "And  she?" 

"  Upon  my  soul,  she  rose — she  did  indeed.  She  held 
out  her  poor  grimy  paw  with  a  bow,  and  poked  her  little 
red  nose  into  the  pictures.  When  she  had  finished,  she 
handed  it  back.  '  Thank  you,'  he  said  pleasantly,  '  I 
have  quite  done  with  it.'  I  should  have  hurt  the  girl's 


218  WINDYHAUGH. 

feelings  if  I  had  refused  it;  but  not  he.  It  really  is  a 
liberal  education  to  know  that  man." 

He  paused  before  continuing  with  a  scornful  little 
laugh — "  So  the  young  lady  in  the  carriage  thought  ap- 
parently, for,  by  way  of  following  a  good  example,  she 
assailed  the  hopper  with  well-meant  patronizing  ques- 
tions. I  did  long  to  say,  '  My  dear  young  woman,  the 
thing  has  been  done  for  to-day.  Take  a  hint  for  next 
time,  if  you  like,  and  start  a  canvas  of  your  own,  but 
don't  attempt  to  fill  in  the  sketch  of  a  master." 

"  I  should  like  to  meet  Mr.  Galbraith." 

"Upon  my  soul,  Honor,  I  don't  dare  to  introduce 
him.  There  must  be  a  screw  loose  somewhere.  If  he 
were  all  that  he  seems,  he  would  have  the  world  at  his 
feet.  He  asked  me  to  spend  a  few  days  with  him  when 
he  returns  to  Windyhaugh,  and  I  will  try  to  get  to  the 
bottom  of  him." 

"  He  has  a  daughter,  has  he  not  ? " 

"  Yes,  a  dear  little  thing,  a  regular  devote.  It  is  a 
picturesque  combination.  And  now  let  us  have  a  chap- 
ter of  the  story." 

She  took  up  the  library  volume  they  had  been  read- 
ing. "  We  left  John  in  St.  Peter's,  do  you  remember  ?  " 

She  read  on  till  she  came  to  the  interview  with  the 
Spanish  monk. 

"  '  It  may  be  that  in  some  other  place  God  would  have 
found  for  you  other  work;  you  have  failed  in  attaining 
that  place;  serve  Him  where  you  are.  If  you  fall  still 
lower  or  imagine  that  you  fall  lower,  still  serve  Him  in 
the  lowest  room  of  all.  Wherever  you  may  find  yourself, 
in  Courts  or  pleasure-houses  or  gardens  of  delight,  still 
serve  Him,  and  you  will  bid  defiance  to  imaginations 
and  powers  of  evil,  that  strive  to  work  upon  a  sensitive 
and  excited  nature,  and  urge  it  to  despair ! ' 

"Oh,  Hal,"  she  said,  "isn't  that  fine!" 

"Ay." 

"  It  makes  me  think  of  Longfellow — 

"  '  Whene'er  a  noble  deed  is  wrought, 
Whene'er  is  spoken  a  noble  thought, 
Our  hearts,  in  glad  surprise, 
To  higher  levels  rise.'  " 


A  SUNNY  DAY.  219 

She  had  scarcely  finished  the  chapter  when  the  maid 
knocked  at  the  door  with  a  letter  for  Mr.  Brentwood. 

"  Well !  "  said  Harley,  his  face  flushing  with  pleasure. 
"Talk  of  angels!" 

He  threw  the  letter  across  to  his  sister  and  looked  on 
while  she  read — 

"MY  DEAR  BRENTWOOD:  I  find  I  shall  be  at  Windy- 
haugh  sooner  than  I  anticipated.  Could  you  come  for  a 
few  days  next  week,  and  cheer  an  old  fogey's  loneliness  ? 
I  am  afraid  you  will  find  it  dull;  but  at  least  I  can 
offer  you  unlimited  boating  (absit  omen!}  and  billiards. 
My  daughter  plays  a  very  fair  game. — I  am, 
"  Yours  truly, 

"GEORGE  GALBRAITH." 

"Is  he  old?"  said  Honor. 

"  Eather  not.     That  is  his  little  pose." 

Harley  smiled.  A  vivid  picture  rose  before  him  of 
the  "  little  devote  "  as  she  stood  on  the  lonely  rocks  with 
the  green  sea  rolling  about  her  feet. 

"  Cold-blooded  little  puss !  "  he  said  to  himself. 


CHAPTEK  XXXII. 

A   SUNNY  DAY. 

FOR  nearly  a  year  Wilhelmina's  inward  life  had  re- 
sembled the  drifting  of  a  boat  through  a  sunny  lagoon. 
Ripples  had  stirred  the  surface  of  the  water,  wisps  of 
cloud  had  passed  across  the  sun,  but  in  the  main  her 
course  had  been  a  bright  and  peaceful  one.  Now,  all  in 
a  moment,  a  puff  of  wind  had  carried  her  near  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  protecting  reef,  and  she  felt  the  swell  of 
the  waves  outside.  Would  she  turn  back  into  still  wa- 
ters again,  or  pass  out  into  the  open  sea  ? 

Moreover  the  sunlight  no  longer  fell  in  a  golden 
shield,  nor  broke  in  a  thousand  spangles.  A  cloud  had 
15 


220  WINDYHAUGH. 

spread  over  the  sky  and  all  was  grey.  She  still  adhered 
to  the  manifold  simple  observances  of  her  religious  life, 
and  she  still  knew  an  occasional  hour  of  happiness,  but 
on  the  whole  the  next  few  weeks  were  a  time  of  deep 
depression. 

"  Was  I  wrong  ?  "  she  kept  saying  to  herself.  "  Was 
I  wrong  ?  "  Of  course  it  would  have  been  wiser  to  have 
left  the  question  alone;  but  she  felt  that  she  had  taken 
a  wrong  turn  somewhere,  and  she  longed  to  know  ex- 
actly where  and  how  the  error  had  occurred,  that  she 
might  correct  her  course  for  the  future. 

She  was  suffering  keenly  too,  of  course,  from  sheer 
wounded  vanity.  Hitherto  her  father  had  always 
seemed  to  admire  her,  to  be  pleased  with  her,  and  now 
his  calm  cold  words  had  been  far  more  crushing  even 
than  he  had  intended.  Wilhelmina  did  not  realize  that 
he  was  a  thing  of  moods  as  well  as  she.  Yet  after  the 
first  few  wretched  hours  she  bore  him  no  grudge.  "  He 
was  quite  right,"  she  said  resolutely  to  herself ;  "  I  am 
not  going  to  quarrel  with  the  kernel  because  the  shell 
is  hard ; "  and,  fetching  her  workbox,  she  proceeded 
through  blinding  tears  to  sew  on  the  defaulting  button. 

Like  all  sensitive  people,  Wilhelmina  saw  her  out- 
ward self  mainly  through  the  eyes  of  others.  In  a  me- 
dium of  genial  appreciation  she  floated  out  like  a  sea- 
weed in  water:  on  the  dry  rocks  of  criticism  she  shriv- 
elled up  with  unnecessary  and  exaggerated  humility. 

It  was  a  real  distress  to  her  too  that  she  had  dis- 
pleased her  father.  Through  all  the  preoccupation  of 
her  religious  life,  she  had  never  forgotten  that  "her 
business  was  to  make  him  happy." 

So  the  clouds  gathered  close. 

Never  since  her  childhood  had  she  felt  the  dulness  of 
Windyhaugh  as  she  did  now.  The  silence  of  the  house, 
the  constant  murmur  of  the  wind  and  waves,  oppressed 
her  like  a  physical  weight.  She  expected  a  letter  from 
the  quakeress,  and  each  day  awaited  the  arrival  of  the 
postman  with  a  feverish  anxiety  that  was  almost  intoler- 
able; but  the  letter  did  not  come.  Finally — though 
this  was  opposed  to  all  precedent — she  wrote  again  her- 
self— one  of  those  impulsive,  affectionate,  heart-hungry 


A  SUNNY  DAY.  221 

letters  that  in  later  years  one  learns  not  to  write;  they 
are  so  difficult  to  live  up  to  when  the  sun  shines  again ! 
She  counted  the  hours  till  an  answer  by  return  might  be 
expected,  but  before  that  time  came,  the  light  broke. 
She  could  not  honestly  call  it  light  from  heaven,  but — 
it  served. 

She  had  waylaid  the  postman  at  the  gate  as  usual, 
and  now  she  sped  to  the  house  like  the  wind. 

"  Ann !  "  she  cried,  "  Ann !  Father's  coming  to- 
night. What  shall  we  have  for  supper  ? " 

Then  she  read  his  kindly  note  again. 

"Thank  God!"  she  whispered.  "Thank  God!  .  .  . 
What  a  comfort  Pullar  has  sent  back  my  white  silk 
frock!" 

Mr.  Galbraith  arrived  in  royal  good  humour.  "  And 
how  is  my  little  white  swan  ? "  he  said  as  he  kissed  his 
daughter  affectionately.  "  Isn't  it  a  lovely  evening  ? 
Shall  we  take  a  turn  in  the  rose  garden  before  we  go 
in  ? "  He  rested  his  fine  sinewy  hand  on  her  shoulder 
as  they  strolled  round  in  the  soft  sunset  sunlight.  "  We 
must  see  if  we  can  find  a  rose  for  her  in  this  waste  old 
wilderness." 

Roses  there  were  by  hundreds,  but  he  was  not  easy 
to  please.  One  and  another  he  looked  at  and  dis- 
carded, but  at  length  he  chose  a  few  mossy  buds,  and 
fastened  them  in  her  gown  with  the  easy  touch  of  one 
who  is  not  unpractised  in  such  arts. 

"  That  reminds  me,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  brought  a 
cadeau  for  her.  Shall  we  go  and  see  it  ?  " 

He  opened  a  box,  and  from  a  mass  of  silver  paper, 
produced  a  large  white  hat — very  graceful,  very  girlish. 

"  Oh,  Father !  "  she  cried,  blushing  with  pleasure. 
"  That  is  far  too  pretty  for  me." 

He  placed  it  on  her  head,  and,  laying  his  hands  on 
her  shoulders,  turned  her  gently  to  the  old-fashioned 
mirror. 

"  What  does  the  looking-glass  say  ? "  he  said  gaily. 
"Too  pretty,  eh?" 

Finding  that  he  meant  to  treat  her  like  a  little  queen, 
Wilhelmina  rose  to  the  full  height  of  her  privileges.  A 


222  WINDYHAUGH. 

physical  reaction  from  the  depression  of  the  past  weeks 
was  overdue,  and  it  came.  She  grew  saucy,  piquant, 
playful,  pretending  to  keep  him  in  order  while  she  hu- 
moured his  every  whim. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  Mr.  Brentwood  is 
coming  to  spend  a  few  days  with  us.  Do  you  remember 
him?  He  seems  to  have  a  very  pleasant  recollection  of 
you." 

"I  remember  him  very  well."  Wilhelmina  blushed. 
She  liked  Mr.  Brentwood,  but  what  pleased  her  most  in 
the  prospect  of  his  visit  was  the  chance  of  showing  her 
father  that  she  was  not  so  hopelessly  gauche  as  he  im- 
agined. 

She  meant  to  receive  her  visitor  with  great  dignity, 
but  he  defeated  her  plan  by  arriving  unexpectedly  and 
on  foot. 

Mr.  Galbraith  was  walking  in  the  garden  with  a  new 
book  in  his  hand  when  Wilhelmina  joined  him. 

"  What  are  you  reading,  Father  ? "  she  asked  idly, 
slipping  her  hand  through  his  arm  with  her  new-found 
confidence. 

He  smiled.     "  Little  girls  must  not  be  curious." 

"  I  am  not  curious.     I  only  want  to  know." 

He  raised  the  book  just  above  the  level  of  her  eyes, 
but  she  saw  the  expression  of  his  face,  and  made  a 
spring,  like  a  kitten,  in  search  of  the  desired  informa- 
tion. Thereupon  he  raised  the  book  higher  still — and 
the  pretty  contest  was  at  its  height  when  Brentwood 
appeared. 

Wilhelmina's  kitten-like  curves  vanished,  and  she 
blushed  charmingly. 

"  Very  pleased  to  see  you,"  she  said  sedately.  Then 
she  turned  to  her  father.  "  I  am  glad  you  will  have 
someone  to  talk  to  instead  of  being  reduced  to — such 
dull  books." 

"As  what?"  he  asked  mischievously,  but  he  put  his 
arm  round  her  as  he  spoke,  and  placed  the  book  in  her 
hands. 

"  You  find  us  very  much  unter  uns,  you  see,  Brent- 
wood," he  said.  "  It  is  good  of  you  to  take  pity  on  our 
solitude." 


A  SUNNY  DAY.  223 

"  Your  solitude  does  not  seem  to  stand  much  in  need 
of  pity,  sir,"  Brentwood  answered  with  an  admiring 
glance ;  "  but  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  let  me  share  it 
for  a  day  or  two." 

And  so  the  three  settled  down  to  one  of  those  charm- 
ing intimacies  that  never  can  be  reckoned  on  before- 
hand. 

The  evening  was  warm,  and  after  supper  they  sat  on 
the  terrace  till  long  after  sunset.  Wilhelmina  spoke 
little,  but  she  was  so  obviously  happy  and  contented  as 
she  lay  at  ease  on  the  chaise  longue  in  which  her  father 
had  installed  her,  that  her  presence  made  itself  very 
pleasantly  felt. 

"  What  about  that  beauty  sleep  ?  "  said  Mr.  Galbraith 
at  last. 

"  Father,"  remonstrated  Wilhelmina,  "  is  that  the 
way  to  speak  to  the  mistress  of  the  house?  And  before 
strangers  too  ? " 

"  Ah,  don't  call  me  a  stranger,  Miss  Galbraith !  "  en- 
treated Brentwood.  "  If  it  is  true,  you  have  made  me 
forget  it  so  delightfully." 

"  The  mistress  of  the  house  is  the  person  who  rises 
up  a  great  while  before  day,  if  I  remember  rightly,"  said 
Mr.  GaTbraith. 

Wilhelmina  drew  herself  up  and  sighed.  "  Now-a- 
days  the  mistress  has  to  adapt  herself  to  the  household. 
She  can't  give  meat  till  somebody  is  awake  to  eat  it. 
Good-night,  Mr.  Brentwood.  Good-night,  father  dear. 
Take  a  good  long  rest  in  the  morning." 

For  a  few  minutes  after  she  had  gone,  the  two  men 
smoked  in  silence. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  very  pleasant  to  see  you  here, 
Brentwood,"  Mr.  Galbraith  said  at  last.  "  I  hope  you 
don't  mean  to  hurry  away  ? " 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  sir.  I  have  promised  to  go 
to  a  friend — a  professor  in  Edinburgh.  There  is  a  paper 
in  the  Biological  section  that  I  am  anxious  to  hear. 
This  is  Tuesday.  If  you  will  keep  me  till  Friday  morn- 
ing, I  shall  be  only  too  glad." 

"  Ah,  I  hoped  you  would  stay  till  Saturday  at  any 
rate.  I  have  a  box  at  the  Lyceum  for  the  matinee. 


224  WINDYHAUGH. 

Miss  Evelyn  is  playing  Pauline  in  The  Lady  of  Lyons. 
Don't  tell  my  little  girl.  It  is  to  be  a  surprise." 

"Miss  Evelyn?  Pauline?  That  is  an  inducement 
— if  one  were  needed.  Unfortunately  my  friend  has 
asked  some  people  to  dinner  on  Friday  evening " 

"  Then  come  in  on  Saturday  afternoon  all  the  same." 

"  Thank  you  very  much.     I  will." 

When  Wilhelmina  awoke  next  morning  she  wondered 
why  she  was  so  happy.  Eor  a  time  she  lay  in  drowsy 
content,  and  then  she  stretched  herself  with  a  yawn. 

"  So  sunny !  "  she  said,  glancing  out  of  the  window. 
"  Is  it  going  to  be  another  long  delicious  day  like  yes- 
terday?" 

After  a  late  breakfast  they  spent  the  morning  on 
the  water.  Brentwood  did  most  of  the  rowing — Mr. 
Galbraith  relieving  him  from  time  to  time.  Both  were 
good  oarsmen. 

"  Let  me  have  a  turn,"  said  Wilhelmina  at  last.  "  I 
am  so  tired  of  doing  nothing." 

"  You  can't  row,  little  one,"  said  her  father. 

"  Can't  I !  I  often  paddle  about  when  you  are 
away." 

Brentwood  gave  her  the  oars,  and  her  father  watched 
her  with  quiet  critical  amusement. 

"  Your  rowing  is  scarcely  on  a  level  with  your  sense 
of  literary  fitness,  Vilma,"  he  said.  "'Paddle  about' 
is  just  the  expression." 

Her  face  fell.  She  had  become  acclimatized  so 
quickly  to  an  atmosphere  of  admiration. 

"  Of  course  I  can't  row  properly  with  you  looking 
on,"  she  said. 

"Nay,  when  you  say  that,  you  show  that  you  never 
did  row  properly — never  even  knew  what  rowing  means." 

His  tone  was  kind,  but  she  did  not  know  him  in  this 
mood,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  he  was  humiliating  her 
unnecessarily  in  the  presence  of  a  "  stranger." 

"But  the  boat  goes"  she  said,  flushing  with  a  touch 
of  resentment. 

"  True ;  and  so  would  a  mangle  or  a  hurdy-gurdy  or 
anything  under  the  same  treatment." 


A  SUNNY  DAY.  225 

She  raised  the  oars  out  of  the  water  and  allowed  the 
boat  to  drift.  She  was  evidently  having  a  struggle  with 
herself;  but  her  moral  thews  and  sinews  were  in  good 
fighting  form. 

"  Teach  me  then,  Father,"  she  said. 

His  face  lighted  up  with  real  appreciation.  "  Ah, 
come!  Now  you  are  an  oarswoman  or  anything  else 
you  choose.  Brentwood,  your  work  is  cut  for  you." 

Nothing  loth,  Brentwood  applied  himself  to  the  task. 
At  first  shyness  made  her  stupid,  but  when  that  was  over- 
come, she  learned  with  extraordinary  rapidity.  He  had 
often  heard  of  the  quickness  of  women,  but  Honor's 
many  remarkable  gifts  had  prepared  him  for  nothing 
like  this.  Once  Wilhelmina  had  made  up  her  mind  to 
learn,  her  docility  was  perfect,  and  she  would  own  to  no 
fatigue.  Before  half  an  hour  was  over  she  was  rowing, 
not  strongly,  of  course,  but  rhythmically,  feathering 
daintily,  carrying  back  the  oars  with  a  fine  level  sweep, 
and  dropping  them  with  a  clean  cut  into  the  water. 

"Well,  you  have  grit,"  Harley  said  admiringly,  as 
he  helped  her  out  of  the  boat. 

Her  father  did  not  echo  the  statement,  but  spoken 
praise  from  him  was  unnecessary.  She  was  preternatu- 
rally  sensitive  to  his  approbation. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  she  found  a  letter 
awaiting  her — a  letter  from  the  Quakeress.  As  though 
it  were  something  to  be  ashamed  of,  she  hastily  put  it 
in  her  pocket — and  a  week  later  she  found  it  there. 

In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Galbraith  carried  Wilhelmina 
off  to  do  some  copying  for  him,  and  kept  her  busy  till 
it  was  nearly  time  for  afternoon  tea.  Then  she  ran  to 
the  garden  to  gather  fruit.  Before  she  had  reached  the 
strawberry  bed  Brentwood  overtook  her.  "I  thought  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  flying  petals,"  he  said.  "Let  me 
carry  your  basket." 

Together  they  stooped  to  gather  the  fragrant  coral- 
pink  fruit ;  "  though  I  ought  not  to  let  you  do  it,"  Wil- 
helmina said  shyly. 

"  You  wouldn't  be  so  selfish,  I  am  sure.  I  think  it 
is  delightful  work  gathering  fruit  with  a  friend,  don't 
you?" 


226  WINDYHAUGH. 

She  straightened  herself  with  a  long  sigh  of  content. 
"  Everything  is  delightful  to-day." 

"It  makes  a  great  difference  to  you  to  have  your 
father  here?" 

"Oh!"  Her  voice  was  low  but  emphatic.  "Isn't 
he  perfectly  splendid  ? " 

"  Perfectly  splendid.    You  are  much  to  be  envied." 

"Am  I  not?  He  has  been  working  so  hard  this 
afternoon.  We  must  make  haste  back.  I  will  bring 
the  tray  out  to  the  terrace." 

After  tea  Brentwood  declared  his  intention  of  going 
for  a  walk.  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  too  tired  to  go  with 
me  ? "  he  said  to  Wilhelmina. 

"  I  ?  I  am  as  fresh  as  a  lark.  Where  shall  we  go, 
Father?  We  might  strike  across  the  hayfield,  and  then 
along  the  coast  to  the  right.  It  is  lovely  that  way." 

Mr.  Galbraith  nodded.  "  Very  well,"  he  said. 
"  Don't  be  late." 

So  Wilhelmina  and  Brentwood  set  out  together  de- 
murely. At  first  they  conversed  pleasantly,  as  young 
men  and  women  do,  striving  to  be  amiable  and  to  say 
something  clever  when  they  got  a  chance  to  bring  it  in. 
Presently  they  became  boy  and  girl,  chatting  away  at 
random;  and  before  they  had  gone  very  far  they  were 
children  again,  unselfconscious  and  happy. 

"  What  a  nice  flat  stone !  "  Wilhelmina  said,  stooping 
to  pick  one  up.  "  When  I  was  little  I  used  to  love  to 
send  these  things  skimming  over  the  sea." 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  recreation  that  never  palls.  Fire 
away ! " 

The  game  was  amusing,  but  Wilhelmina  was  beaten 
so  completely  that  it  soon  ceased  to  be  exciting,  and 
they  strolled  on  till  they  came  to  a  tiny  limpid  stream 
flowing  across  the  beach  to  the  sea.  A  pile  of  wood 
chips  had  been  thrown  down  hard  by. 

"We'll  have  a  boat  race!"  said  Harley.  "Choose 
your  craft." 

She  laughed  gaily.  This  reminded  her  of  the  games 
of  her  childhood.  Was  it  possible  that  clever  men  were 
so  easily  amused  ? 

"  I  hope  you  don't  want  to  be  Cambridge  ? "  he  said. 


A  SUNNY  DAY.  227 

She  drew  herself  up.  "  I  wouldn't  be  Cambridge 
for  the  world,"  she  answered  severely.  "  Oxford  is  my 
father's  university." 

"  That's  all  right.    Have  you  got  a  boat? " 

After  considerable  deliberation  each  of  them  decided 
on  a  seaworthy  chip. 

"  How  are  we  to  know  them  apart  ?  " 

"  What  a  pity !  "  she  said  regretfully.  "  I  might  so 
easily  have  brought  some  bits  of  blue  wool  from  my 
work-basket ! " 

"  No  matter.  One  never  foresees  the  great  emer- 
gencies of  life.  I  have  got  a  blue  pencil.  I  will  block 
in  an  O  for  you,  and  hatch  in  a  C  for  myself.  That 
will  give  us  the  dark  and  light  blue." 

After  several  false  starts  the  boats  drifted  off.  The 
excitement  of  the  race  depended  mainly  on  the  shallow- 
ness  of  the  stream  here  and  there.  In  some  places  a 
jutting  miniature  sandbank,  or  a  mere  pebble,  was  suffi- 
cient to  check  the  course  of  the  tiny  crafts.  Now  Ox- 
ford went  ahead,  now  Cambridge,  amidst  wild  excite- 
ment on  the  banks.  As  they  neared  the  sea  and  the 
stream  deepened,  the  two  chips  became  entangled,  and 
drifted  out  together. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Wilhelmina  disappointed.  "  Never 
mind.  That  is  best.  We  have  both  won — or  lost! 
Look,  they  are  parting  company  again !  " 

"  It  is  a  tie,"  he  said  regretfully.  "  It  doesn't  matter 
what  happens  now  they  have  passed  the  goal.  But  Ox- 
ford should  not  have  fouled  Cambridge." 

"  No.     I  am  sorry." 

Then  they  both  laughed  and  turned  homewards. 

They  did  not  talk  much  now.  As  they  passed  a 
straggling  briar  bush,  Harley  gathered  a  half -blown  rose 
and  held  it  out  to  his  companion  without  a  word. 

"Let  us  rest  a  few  minutes,"  he  said  when  they 
reached  the  hayfield.  "This  half -demolished  rick  is 
more  than  I  can  resist.  Let  me  give  you  a  hand." 

Her  impulse  was  to  decline;  she  was  so  unused  to 
helping  hands.  Then  she  suddenly  became  conscious  that 
it  would  be  pleasant  to  have  his  help,  and  she  took  it. 

He    disposed    himself    comfortably    on    the    roomy 


228  WINDYHAUGH. 

couch.  "  I  think  there  is  nothing  so  delicious  as  to  lie 
on  one's  back  on  the  hay,  and  shut  one's  eyes  to  the 
sunny  blue  sky  overhead." 

"Why,  do  it  then,"  she  said  smiling.  "I  will  look 
out  for  robbers." 

"For  robbers?" 

She  laughed.  "  Such  an  old  memory !  I  was  in  this 
very  field  years  and  years  ago,  with  Hugh  and  Gavin. 
It  was  a  hay  crop  that  season  too,  and  the  rick  was  our 
castle." 

"  Then  it  is  I  who  ought  to  be  watching." 

"No,  no.  Even  the  knight  must  sleep  sometimes. 
Dear  little  Gavin — I  wish  he  was  here  to  run  away  with 
me  again ! " 

"Do  you?" 

"Yes,  I— I  think  so." 

"Do  you?" 

"  No." 

"  Content  with  things  as  they  are  ? " 

She  did  not  reply  at  once.  If  she  had  been  less  con- 
tent, she  would  not  have  hesitated  to  say  so ;  but  it  was 
only  after  a  curious  inward  struggle  that  she  answered 
gravely,  "  Yes." 

Then  she  rose.  "  Father  will  be  expecting  us,"  she 
said,  and  she  slid  down  the  sloping  side  of  the  rick. 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  he  cried  as  he  followed  her. 
"  You  have  got  some  clover  in  your  hair.  You  must 
not  go  home  looking  like  Ophelia  in  the  mad  scene." 

She  put  up  her  hand  to  remove  it.  "  It  doesn't  mat- 
ter. If  you  hadn't  been  here,  I  shouldn't  have  known 
about  it." 

"  Ah — but  it  does  just  happen,  you  see,  that  I  am 
here." 

A  sudden  impulse  seized  her  to  rush  like  a  hare 
across  the  fields  to  her  father;  but  while  she  hesitated, 
it  was  too  late.  His  touch  was  on  her  head,  and  then 
— she  felt  very  glad  that  her  hair  was  so  pretty. 

Mr.  Galbraith  met  the  young  people  as  they  walked 
sedately  home.  Their  silence  was  not  lost  on  him — nor 
was  the  rose  in  Wilhelmina's  belt. 


A  SUNNY  DAY.  229 

"When  the  missis  has  decided  what  she  means  to 
wear  this  evening,"  he  said,  "  we'll  go  to  the  garden  and 
choose  a  posy  for  her." 

Wilhelmina  hurried  upstairs,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  came  down  in  the  blue  muslin  frock. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "you  meant  to  set  me  a  puzzle,  did 
you  ?  Haven't  you  a  pink  gown  ?  Wear  that  to-morrow 
night." 

They  strolled  into  the  garden  together.  "  If  lily  of 
the  valley  were  in  season,"  he  said,  "  we  would  try  that ; 
but  white  is  a  cowardly  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  Ivy 
would  be  pretty,  but  too  mature.  Ah,  I  didn't  know  we 
had  forget-me-nots.  They  are  not  decorative,  but  they 
are  very  dainty." 

He  arranged  a  graceful  spray,  and  fastened  it  at  her 
throat. 

After  supper  Wilhelmina  went  to  make  the  coffee,  as 
she  always  did  when  her  father  was  at  home,  and  then 
the  three  spent  another  long  peaceful  evening  on  the 
terrace. 

When  the  young  girl  went  to  her  room,  she  read  her 
chapter  many  times  before  her  mind  would  take  a  grip 
of  the  familiar  verses ;  and  then  she  knelt  down  to  pray. 

"  Oh,  God,  I  am  so  happy !  I  am  so  happy !  "  Those 
were  the  words  that  forced  themselves  to  her  lips.  She 
tried  to  remember  what  a  sinner  she  was,  but  the  re- 
membrance brought  no  remorse.  She  did  not  ask  herself 
why  she  was  happy.  When  love  first  breathes  a  flying 
whisper  in  the  ear  of  an  innocent  girl,  he  does  not  make 
her  introspective  or  self-conscious.  He  draws  her  back 
to  the  bosom  of  Mother  Nature  and  makes  her  at  one 
with  all  the  dear  wild  things  in  forest  and  meadow  and 
stream. 


230  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTEK  XXXIII. 

"LOVE  AND  LIFE." 

NEXT  morning  at  breakfast  Mr.  Galbraith  received  a 
telegram  calling  him  in  to  Edinburgh  on  business.  Wil- 
helmina  and  Brentwood  accompanied  him  to  the  gate. 

"  I  shall  come  back  by  the  four  o'clock  train,"  he 
said.  "  Take  care  of  yourselves  and  of  each  other ;  and 
if  you  have  another  rowing  lesson,  be  very  cautious." 

"  Trust  me,  sir,"  said  Brentwood. 

Mr.  Galbraith  turned  to  him.  "  I  do  trust  you,"  he 
said  gravely. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone  Harley  and  Wilhelmina 
looked  at  each  other,  and  then  looked  away  again  in 
sudden  shyness. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "shall  we  have  another  lesson?" 

She  hesitated.  She  had  resolved  the  night  before 
that  she  would  put  duty  rigidly  before  pleasure,  and  she 
did  not  find  it  easy  now  to  stick  to  her  resolution. 

"  I  have  various  little  duties  in  the  house  in  the 
morning,"  she  said.  "  If  you  go  on,  I  will  join  you  in 
an  hour." 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  will  wait  for  you." 

Shyness  soon  wore  away  in  the  healthy  excitement  of 
rowing,  but  Mr.  Galbraith's  parting  words  had  exercised 
a  sobering  influence  on  Brentwood,  and  when  they  began 
to  talk,  he  chose  the  safe  subject  of  books. 

"  You  are  a  great  reader,  I  think,"  he  said,  mindful 
of  Sartor  Resartus. 

"  I  am  afraid  not."  For  the  first  time  she  felt  a 
pang  of  regret  that  her  reading  had  been  so  limited  in 
range  of  late;  but  such  regrets,  she  felt  sure,  were  a 
temptation  of  the  evil  one. 

"  Life  is  so  short,"  she  said  sententiously. 

He  smiled.     "  True,  oh,  Queen!  " 

"And  I  think  one  ought  to  be  careful  to  read  the 
best  books." 

"  Granted  again.  But  how  are  we  who  are  young 
and  ignorant  to  know  what  is  best?  Don't  you  think 


"LOVE  AND  LIFE."  231 

that  in  books  as  in  wines  we  must  have  our  fling?  It  is 
only  when  the  shadows  begin  to  gather  that  we  are  en- 
titled to  say,  '  That  book,  that  wine,  may  be  -very  good ; 
but  these  are  the  brands  for  me  ? ' ' 

"  And  yet,"  she  said,  "  we  surely  know  that  books 
which  pertain  entirely  to  this  world  must  be  a — waste 
of  time." 

"  And  among  such  books  you  include  Shakespeare  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  but  her  voice  lacked  the  ring  of 
sincerity. 

"  Honour  bright,  Miss  Galbraith !  Carry  your  con- 
viction loyally  through." 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "I  am  afraid  I  should  include 
Shakespeare." 

"  And  Browning  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  Browning." 

He  wondered  whether  it  was  worth  while  to  pursue 
the  subject,  but  he  was  young  and  it  tempted  him. 

"In  the  books  you  find  helpful,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  don't  you  think  the  writers  are  apt  to  take  a  religious 
idea,  and  then  shape  their  incidents  and  characters  to  suit 
it  ?  The  result  may  be  very  pretty  and  pathetic ;  but,  if 
your  father  read  such  a  book,  he  would  say,  '  This  is  not 
life.'  West  ce  pas?" 

She  nodded  gravely. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  let  your  father  or  any  other 
able  man  of  the  world  read  a  work  like  Shakespeare's 
Julius  Csesar,  or  Browning's  Ring  and  the  Book,  and  he 
would  say,  (  This  is  life — real  actual  human  life.  These 
are  the  men  and  passions  I  have  known. ' ' 

He  paused,  while  Wilhelmina  strove  to  recall  her 
vague  impressions  of  Julius  Csesar. 

Presently  he  went  on — "  In  neither  work  do  things 
turn  out  pleasantly;  nay,  in  both  they  seem  to  be  going 
very  far  wrong ;  and  yet,  as  one  reads,  one  says  l  Yes, 
here  is  life — real  actual  throbbing  life;  but  life  so  rep- 
resented that  I  see  God  in  it.' " 

It  was  some  time  before  Wilhelmina  spoke.  When 
she  did,  it  was  to  say  humbly — 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Brentwood,  you  have  a  keener  eye  for 
— for  God  than  I  have." 


232  WINDYHAUGH. 

He  blushed  for  very  shame. 

"Well,  Miss  Galbraith,"  he  said;  "that  certainly  is 
delivered  straight  out  from  the  shoulder." 

Wilhelmina  raised  her  eyes.  "  I  don't  understand 
you,"  she  said  simply. 

"  And  I  won't  try  to  explain  myself  any  more.  For- 
get all  I  have  said;  and  let  us  both  be  thankful  that 
the  vision  of  God  at  least  is  reserved  for  the  pure  in 
heart." 

He  did  not  know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  for  the 
turn  the  conversation  had  taken.  Certainly  it  had  re- 
moved Wilhelmina  to  a  great  distance  from  him  again. 
She  seemed  to  be  in  deep  thought,  and  only  half  aware 
of  his  presence. 

She  was  brought  abruptly  down  to  earth,  however,  by 
the  discovery  that  the  dinner  hour  was  past. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Brentwood,"  she  said  in  laughing  dismay, 
"  Ann  will  be  so  angry !  " 

With  a  strong  feeling  of  fellowship  in  misfortune 
they  secured  the  boat  and  raced  breathless  up  the  hill. 

Ann  received  them  as  if  they  had  been  naughty  chil- 
dren. "  It's  weel  seen  that  the  maister's  awa,"  she  ejacu- 
lated. 

"  I  do  feel  bad,"  Brentwood  said  when  she  left  the 
room.  "  Can  we  do  anything  to  propitiate  her  ? " 

"  Oh,  no !  " 

"Will  it  last  long?" 

"  Not  very  long,  I  think.  She  is  not  due  one  of  her 
really  bad  times."  An  unmistakable  odour  reached  the 
room  while  Wilhelmina  spoke.  "I  am  afraid  she  is 
wreaking  her  vengeance  on  the  pudding." 

The  suspicion  ripened  into  certainty  when  the  pud- 
ding appeared. 

"  I  don't  think  we  can  eat  that,"  Wilhelmina  said 
timidly.  "  It  is  burnt." 

Ann  swept  it  from  the  table  again.  "  An'  I  wonner 
who's  to  blame  for  that !  "  she  said.  Then,  remembering 
that  a  visitor  was  a  visitor — "  There's  a  hantle  rasps 
ootbye  that  wants  eating."1 

If  she  expected  Wilhelmina  to  go  and  gather  some, 
she  was  disappointed.  The  young  girl  smiled  across  at 


"LOVE  AND  LIFE."  233 

her  guest.  "  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said.  "  Shall  we  ad- 
journ to  the  garden  for  dessert  ?  " 

"  That  is  putting  a  premium  on  our  misdemeanour," 
he  said,  and  they  strolled  off  together. 

The  old  garden  was  in  its  happiest  mood — still  and 
drowsy,  breathing  out  fragrance.  The  hedge  of  sweet 
peas  was  in  its  glory;  the  river  below  lay  dreaming  in 
golden  haze.  The  constant  quiet  buzz  of  insect  life 
suggested  a  joy  that  scarcely  left  room  for  desire. 

The  raspberry  bed  was  so  overgrown  that  only  an 
expert  could  find  entrance.  Wilhelmina  led  the  way, 
and  her  companion  felt  a  great  thrill  of  pleasure  when 
the  thorny  branches  sprang  back  and  shut  them  in. 
The  fruit  grew  in  royal  abundance  on  a  level  with  their 
lips. 

"See,"  Harley  said.  "I  have  found  a  giant.  You 
must  have  that." 

Wilhelmina  opened  her  mouth  obediently,  showing 
the  gleam  of  her  beautiful  teeth. 

"  That  is  good,"  she  said.  "  Now  I  must  find  one 
for  you,  or  it  won't  be  fair." 

They  grew  weary  of  gathering  at  last,  and  made  their 
way  to  the  summer-house.  Brentwood  leaned  back  on 
the  sloping  seat,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  dreamy 
lassitude  of  the  summer  afternoon. 

How  pretty  Wilhelmina  was ! — how  sweet,  how  child- 
like !  What  a  picture  she  made  as  she  sat  there  at  ease 
with  her  hat  pushed  back,  and  her  hair  brushed  into 
wisps  of  curls  by  the  unruly  raspberry  sprays!  Invol- 
untarily he  moved  a  little  nearer. 

She  was  tired,  too,  he  saw — pleasantly  tired.  Did 
she  feel  the  summer  day  course  in  her  veins  as  he  did? 
Might  he  venture  to  take  her  hand? 

While  he  hesitated  she  rose. 

"  I  quite  forgot,"  she  said  shyly,  "  I  always  go  to 
read  to  an  old  woman  on  Thursday  afternoon.  She 
would  be  so  disappointed  if  I  didn't  come." 

Brentwood  set  his  teeth  hard.  He  felt  as  if  she  had 
thrown  a  douche  of  cold  water  over  him. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  she  would,"  he  said  frigidly. 

"You  will  amuse  yourself,  won't  you?     My  father 


234  WINDYHAUGH. 

has  lots  of  books  in  the  smoking-room.  You  won't  care 
for  them  all;  but  I  know  he  has  Browning — and  Shake- 
speare." 

"  Damn  Browning — and  Shakespeare !  "  Brentwood 
could  scarcely  believe  that  he  had  not  uttered  the  words. 
Was  she  really  cold-blooded,  this  little  girl?  with  her 
red  lips  and  her  entrancing  curves  ?  Was  it  possible  that 
after  all  she  did  not  care  for  him  one  bit?  Brentwood 
was  not  exceptionally  vain,  but  other  women — clever 
cultured  women — had  let  him  feel  his  power,  and  who 
was  this  untaught 'child  that  she  should  defy  him  so 
calmly?  Did  she  mean  to  mock  him  with  her  Brown- 
ing— and  Shakespeare? 

Suddenly  he  became  aware  that  she  was  looking  at 
him  with  startled  eyes,  and  he  was  forced  to  pull  him- 
self together. 

"Thank  you;  I  won't  read,"  he  said.  "I  will  walk 
in  to  Queensmains  by  and  bye,  and  meet  your  father." 

Her  face  beamed.  "  Oh,  that  is  a  happy  idea !  He 
will  be  so  pleased." 

She  hastened  away,  leaving  him  to  walk  up  and  down 
before  the  house  like  a  sentinel  till  she  reappeared. 
She  had  exchanged  her  pretty  cotton  frock  for  one  of 
sober  grey,  and  she  carried  under  her  arm  two  impres- 
sive-looking tomes. 

"  It  is  time  you  were  away,"  she  said  brightly.  "  Au 
revoir!" 

In  silence  he  walked  with  her  to  the  gate,  and  fol- 
lowed her  with  his  eye  as  she  took  her  way  down  the 
road.  She  was  out  of  sight  before  he  moved. 

Wilhelmina  lost  no  time  after  the  hour's  reading. 
Her  father  would  be  tired,  and  she  must  be  ready  to 
make  tea  the  moment  she  heard  the  wheels  of  the  hired 
dog-cart.  Moreover  it  would  never  do  for  him  to  find 
her  in  the  grey  frock.  She  had  not  forgotten  his  nat- 
tering demand  for  the  pink  muslin. 

Her  toilet  was  speedily  made,  and  she  stood  before 
the  glass  to  judge  of  the  effect.  Ah,  yes;  it  would  be 
easy  to  find  a  flower  that  would  go  with  this  frock !  She 
always  kept  a  bowl  of  roses  on  her  dressing-table,  and 


"LOVE  AND  LIFE."  235 

she  now  chose  two  beautiful  jacqueminots  and  pinned 
them  on  her  breast.  In  a  moment  as  if  by  magic  the 
brilliant  colour  was  reflected  on  her  cheeks.  Of  course 
she  would  remove  the  flowers  before  she  went  downstairs, 
but  just  for  a  few  minutes  she  might  let  them  remain. 

She  moved  about  gaily,  putting  the  room  in  order, 
when  the  sound  of  wheels  caught  her  ear,  and,  forget- 
ting everything  but  the  expected  arrival,  she  sprang 
downstairs. 

The  dog-cart  was  driving  up  to  the  door,  but  Mr. 
Galbraith  was  not  in  it.  Harley  Brentwood  was  alone. 

His  face  brightened  when  he  saw  Wilhelmina. 

"Your  father  has  been  detained  in  town,"  he  said 
with  a  scarcely  perceptible  shake  in  his  voice.  "  He  sent 
a  message  by  the  lawyer's  clerk.  He  will  come  as  soon 
as  he  can." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  answer.  She  had  become  sud- 
denly, bewilderingly,  conscious  of  the  roses  at  her  breast. 

She  did  not  speak  till  she  had  regained  her  self-pos- 
session. 

"  I  suppose  we  had  better  have  tea,"  she  said  slowly. 

He  saw  her  hand  shake  as  she  raised  the  tea-pot,  and 
felt  sure  that  her  whole  nature  was  vibrating  with  some 
emotion.  Was  she  merely  disappointed  at  her  father's 
non-appearance — or  was  she  apprehensive,  virginally 
apprehensive  of  another  solitude  a  deux? 

For  an  hour  or  two  she  contrived  to  keep  him  in 
doubt.  She  talked  gaily,  excitedly,  impersonally — 
making  him  feel  there  was  an  armed  neutrality  between 
them — making  him  hope  there  was  a  traitor  in  her 
camp. 

Supper  time  came,  and  still  no  Mr.  Galbraith.  It 
was  one  of  his  rules  that  they  were  never  to  wait  for 
him,  but  neither  Wilhelmina  nor  Brentwood  ate  with 
much  appetite. 

When  Ann  had  removed  the  things,  she  produced  a 
large  family  Bible  and  laid  it  on  the  table  with  the  air 
of  one  who  will  tolerate  no  compromise. 

Wilhelmina  looked  startled  and  uncertain,  but  the 
maid  had  seated  herself  doggedly  on  a  chair  by  the 
door,  and  she  was  forced  to  speak. 
16 


236  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Ann  and  I  always  have  prayers  when  we  are  alone," 
she  said.  "  Will  you— will  you ?" 

"  I  will  read  a  chapter  gladly,"  he  said.  "  I  am  sorry 
I  have  no  gift  for — for  prayer." 

He  read  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  the  First  Epistle  to 
the  Corinthians,  and  then  Ann  knelt  down.  Slowly  the 
others  followed  her  example. 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

Wilhelmina  was  trying  to  think  of  a  prayer  that  was 
in  some  way  suited  to  a  clever  man.  When  an  inspira- 
tion came,  it  was  a  happy  one. 

" l  Oh,  God,  who  art  the  Truth,  make  us  one  with 
Thee  in  everlasting  love. 

" '  We  are  often  weary  of  reading  and  hearing  many 
things ;  in  Thee  is  all  that  we  wish  or  desire. 

" '  Let  all  teachers  hold  their  peace ;  let  all  created 
things  keep  silence  in  Thy  sight:  speak  Thou  to  us 
alone!" 

She  pronounced  the  words  sweetly  and  steadily,  and 
then  the  others  joined  her  in  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

Brentwood  was  amazed  at  the  beauty  of  the  words 
she  had  chosen.  He  knew  they  were  not  her  own,  but 
could  not  remember  at  the  moment  where  she  had  found 
them.  When  they  all  rose  from  their  knees,  and  he 
saw  the  young  girl's  face,  he  felt  as  if  she  were  slipping 
away  from  him  again. 

He  drew  her  to  the  window.  "  Come  out  on  the  ter- 
race," he  said  huskily ;  "  it  is  a  lovely  night." 

She  hesitated.  "  I  wish  father  would  come,"  she 
answered  rather  breathlessly ;  but  she  yielded  to  his  wish, 
and  they  stretched  themselves  as  usual  on  the  chaises 
longues. 

For  a  long  time  neither  spoke.  There  was  a  drowsy 
languor  in  the  summer  night.  The  scent  of  the  honey- 
suckle hung  about  them,  enchained  by  the  stillness  of 
the  air.  Away  down  below  the  tidal  river  breathed  like 
a  live  thing  asleep. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  evening,"  Wilhelmina  said  conven- 
tionally at  last. 

He  turned  to  look  at  her.  Surely,  surely  she  was  act- 
ing now! 


"LOVE  AND  LIFE."  237 

A  fair  girlish  arm  lay  on  the  rose-tinted  gown.  He 
stretched  out  his  hand  and  caressed  it  gently. 

Ah!  There  was  no  mistaking  that  live  thrill  of  re- 
sponse. A  moment's  hesitation,  and  then  the  other  hand 
came  like  a  timid  fluttering  dove,  and  rested  on  his. 

In  another  moment  he  had  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Vilma !  "  he  cried,  "  I  love  you !  Don't  you  love 
me?" 

When  Mr.  Galbraith  came  home  he  found  Ann  await- 
ing him  on  the  doorstep. 

"  Weel,  sir!"  she  said  severely. 

He  looked  down  at  her  pleasantly. 

"  Well,  Ann,"  he  said. 

"If  yon  young  man  has  a  mither,  it's  a  peety  but 
what  he  had  invited  her  as  weel." 

"  Where  are  they?  On  the  terrace?  "  He  motioned 
to  her  to  follow  him  into  the  dining-room.  "  And  you 
think  they  want  a  chaperon?  It  is  all  right,  Ann.  He 
is  an  honest  fellow." 

"  He'd  need  be,  I'm  sure,  sir." 

"And  you  must  know  that  the  sooner  Wilhelmina 
marries,  the  better  for  herself.  My  life  is  too  wander- 
ing, too  uncertain  to  be  shared  by  a  young  girl." 

"  Deed  ay,  sir." 

"  And  Mr.  Brentwood  can  support  a  wife." 

Ann  snorted.  "If  ye'd  been  content  to  wait,  she'd 
ha'  mairriet  the  minister  himsel' !  " 

"  Mr.  Carmichael  ?  Well  he  is  an  honest  man,  with- 
out doubt.  But  you  wouldn't  marry  a  daughter  of  mine 
to  a  country  minister,  would  you,  Ann?  You  know 
the  Galbraith  blood  better.  Remember  she  is  but  a  las- 
sie yet." 

"  Will  I  bring  you  some  supper,  sir  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  I  have — supped.  You  look  tired,  Ann. 
I  will  get  the  whisky  and  soda  for  myself." 

But  he  watched  her  movements  absently  as  she  placed 
the  spirit-stand  and  siphon  on  the  table. 

"  No,  no,"  he  murmured  to  himself ;  "  not  life  in  a 
paddock !  Give  her  some  sort  of  horizon,  some  sense  of 
beyond!" 


238  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

REACTION. 

EDINBURGH  in  August  is  considered  by  those  who  are 
out  of  it  to  be  a  desert,  but  this  year  it  was  the  scene  of 
an  important  scientific  gathering,  and  for  a  few  days 
brilliant  people  from  all  parts  of  the  world  were  assem- 
bled there. 

A  very  solar  system  was  the  grey  metropolis  for  those 
few  days.  The  white-haired  man  of  monumental  at- 
tainment, who  delivered  the  presidential  address,  ably 
represented  the  centre  of  the  system:  those  who  read 
the  papers  on  such  varying  subjects  were  the  planets :  the 
daring  theorist  with  his  extensive  following  dashed 
across  the  field  as  usual  with  the  erratic  course  of  a 
comet :  and  satellites  of  every  kind  were  grouped  around, 
from  the  ardent  student  and  the  kindly  hostess  to  the 
gay  young  things  whose  brain  had  been  hard  at  work — 
not  constructing  a  paper,  but  devising  toilettes  for  re- 
ception and  garden  party. 

So  it  came  about  that  talent  and  beauty  were  well 
represented  at  the  professional  dinner  on  Friday  even- 
ing, and  a  singularly  attractive  woman  fell  to  Brent- 
wood's  share.  She  was  some  years  older  than  himself, 
but  he  did  not  suspect  the  fact;  he  was  struck  only  by 
the  perfect  ease  and  smoothness  of  her  manner.  She 
did  not  at  first  give  him  by  any  means  her  undivided 
attention,  but  by  degrees  she  became  more  interested  in 
his  conversation,  until  at  length  she  yielded  herself  up 
to  it  with  a  whole-heartedness  that  was  very  nattering. 
!N"ot  strictly  clever  herself,  she  had  always  lived  with 
cultured  people,  and  she  saw  life  in  a  perspective  that 
harmonized  pleasantly  with  Brentwood's  own  point  of 
view.  Both  were  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  regret  when 
the  hostess  rose. 

A  former  acquaintance  of  Brentwood's  took  the  va- 
cant place  beside  him. 

"  Well,  old  fellow,"  he  said,  "  you  have  been  a  stran- 
ger of  late." 


REACTION.  239 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  abroad  a  good  deal." 

"  We  all  thought  you  would  have  had  a  professor- 
ship before  now." 

Brentwood  did  not  say  that  he  might  have  had  one  in 
the  colonies,  if  his  mother's  health  had  allowed  him  to 
leave  her. 

"  I  hope  you  are  settling  down  here  now  ? " 

"  My  sister  and  I "  A  great  wave  of  feeling 

took  Brentwood  by  surprise  as  he  pronounced  the  fa- 
miliar words.  For  the  first  time  he  realized  the  change 
that  had  come  over  his  life.  "  — my  sister  and  I  mean 
to  spend  the  greater  part  of  the  year  in  London;  but 
we  have  a  cottage  near  Silverton — quite  within  reach  of 
Edinburgh." 

"  Are  you  staying  there  now  ?  " 

"  More  or  less.  I  was  in  Kent  a  week  ago.  I  come 
to-day  from  Windyhaugh." 

"  Windyhaugh !  "  An  odd  flash  of  intelligence  came 
over  the  speaker's  face.  "  That  is  Mr.  Galbraith's  place, 
isn't  it?" 

"  It  is." 

"  I  was  hearing  about  him  the  other  day.  An  inter- 
esting man,  I  am  told." 

"  Extraordinarily  able  and  interesting." 

"But  it  takes  a  long  spoon  to  sup  with  him, 
eh?" 

Brentwood's  manner  froze.  "  I  don't  know  what 
you  mean,"  he  said  coldly.  "I  find  him  a  delightful 
companion." 

The  conversation  went  on  for  some  time,  but  Brent- 
wood could  not  afterwards  remember  a  word  of  it  save 
that  odious  little  remark — "  It  takes  a  long  spoon  to  sup 
with  him,  eh?" 

He  succeeded  in  banishing  the  subject  from  his  mind 
for  the  evening,  however,  although  he  had  no  oppor- 
tunity of  resuming  the  conversation  which  had  inter- 
ested him  during  the  dinner.  When  the  gentlemen  went 
to  the  drawing-room,  his  charming  companion  at  once 
became  the  queen  of  a  little  court.  She  scarcely  spoke 
to  Brentwood  individually,  but  now  and  then  when  she 
had  made  a  somewhat  audacious  remark  she  allowed  him 


240  WINDYHAUGH. 

to  catch  her  eye  as  if  she  expected  that  he  at  least  would 
understand. 

"  Well,"  said  the  hostess  to  Brentwood,  when  her  hus- 
band was  conducting  the  last  of  the  guests  to  their  car- 
riage, "  did  I  treat  you  handsomely  ?  " 

"You  did  indeed — very  handsomely.  What  a  fas- 
cinating creature  Mrs.  Le  Mesurier  is ! " 

"  Fascinating  ?     She  is  just  irresistible." 

Harley  went  to  his  room  about  midnight. 

The  smile  with  which  he  had  bade  Good-night  to  his 
hostess  was  still  on  his  lips  when  he  suddenly  became 
aware  of  the  remark,  "  It  takes  a  long  spoon  to  sup  with 
him,  eh?" 

The  words  did  not  "  occur "  to  him,  nor  did  they 
sound  in  his  ear  as  if  they  had  just  been  spoken:  they 
sprang  at  his  throat  like  a  bloodhound.  It  was  no  use 
trying  to  shake  them  off,  no  use — no  use. 

Ah,  yes.  The  glamour  was  gone  now.  He  could  look 
at  the  whole  situation  sanely — from  the  outside.  Three 
days  before  he  had  had  no  more  idea  of  marrying  than 
he  had  of  standing  in  Parliament,  and  now — he  was  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  an  engaged  man.  Three  days! 
Was  it  possible  that  three  days  could  revolutionize  the 
whole  life,  not  only  of  a  fool,  but  of  a  sensible  man? 
How  incredible  that  three  days  should  outweigh  thirty 
long  years !  How  absurd  that  one  should  not  be  able  to 
take  one  little  step  back,  just  to  cancel  those  three  little 
days! 

Like  an  echo  from  he  knew  not  where  the  words 
came  back — "  Think  well,  thou  too  wilt  find  there  is  no 
Space  and  no  Time."  Were  they  only  three  days,  or 
had  he  really  been  engaged  to  Wilhelmina  from  all 
eternity  ? 

With  a  groan  Harley  returned  to  the  facts  of  the 
case.  Not  a  word  of  marriage  had  been  spoken  by  any 
one.  Was  he  really,  irrevocably  bound? 

Ah  me !  for  dear  pity's  sake — for  pity  of  him,  for  pity 
of  Wilhelmina — let  us  refrain  from  following  his  re- 
flections! A  young  man  is  scarcely  responsible  for  the 
last  of  his  thoughts.  There  is  no  emotional  reaction  so 
tragic  as  that  which  follows  on  the  heels  of  successful 


REACTION.  241 

unpremeditated  wooing.  "  Sour  grapes,"  said  the  fox 
when  he  could  not  reach  them;  but  we  know  what  his 
thoughts  were.  We  can  guess  what  his  thoughts  would 
have  been,  had  the  fruit  fallen  into  his  mouth  before 
he  had  quite  realized  that  it  was  a  thing  to  be  de- 
sired. "  The  grapes  are  sweet !  The  grapes  are 
sweet ! "  Harley  cried  to  himself  over  and  over  again 
through  the  watches  of  the  night.  He  lashed  himself 
with  the  memory  of  Wilhelmina's  sweetness,  and  charm, 
and  reserve;  but,  for  the  moment  at  least,  it  was  labour 
thrown  away.  The  glamour  was  gone. 

Of  course  he  was  not  in  love  with  his  new  friend,  the 
lady  who  sat  by  his  side  at  dinner;  or  rather  he  was 
in  love  with  her  in  so  far  as  she  represented  to  him  free- 
dom, possibility,  choice,  the  womankind  that  lets  itself 
be  sought,  the  womankind  to  which  he  was  not  bound 
— womanhood  apart  from  Wilhelmina!  He  felt  as  if 
he  had  given  the  whole  female  sex  in  exchange  for  one 
little  girl. 

Acting  under  an  irresistible  impulse,  Brentwood 
opened  his  desk  and  wrote — 

"  SORELLA  MIA  :  I  must  write  and  tell  you  at  once 
that  I  believe  I  am  engaged  to  be  married.  It  will  seem 
odd  to  you — you  being  what  you  are — that  I  should  not 
be  sure,  but  so  it  is.  To-morrow  I  shall  know. 

"Don't  think  I  meant  to  take  you  by  surprise,  old 
girl.  God  knows  I  would  not  do  that.  The  Fates — you 
remember  the  trite  saying  that  character  is  destiny: 
should  it  not  rather  be  that  our  emotions  are  our  des- 
tiny?— the  Fates  have  taken  me  by  surprise,  and  here 
I  am? 

"  Is  this  all  Greek  to  you,  my  beautiful  Honor  ?  I 
suppose  it  is ;  but  don't  despise  me  altogether.  Remem- 
ber I  never  professed  to  be  anything  but  a  man. 

"  You  will  guess,  of  course,  that  it  is  Miss  Galbraith. 
Circumstances  threw  us  together  a  great  deal.  She  is  a 
charming  girl — a  world  too  good  for  me,  and  yet ! 

"  I  should  be  a  cur  to  write  like  this  if  you  had  not 
been  my  mother  confessor  always;  but  I  may  as  well 
prepare  you  for  what  you  would  read  in  my  face  before 


242  WINDYHAUGB. 

we  had  been  ten  minutes  together.  Of  course  I  may  find 
to-morrow  that  I  am  taking  an  exaggerated  view  of  what 
passed  between  us,  so  I  won't  post  this  until  I  have 
seen  her. 

"  If  there  is  any  blame  in  the  matter— beyond  that 
which  is  due  to  '  the  Power  that  made  us  girl  and  boy ' 
— it  is  entirely  mine,  and  I  don't  want  to  shirk  an  ounce 
of  my  due  responsibility.  I  told  her  I  loved  her — this 
again  you  won't  understand;  I  drew  from  her  the  con- 
fession that  she  loved  me.  It  was  I  who  led  her  on: 
she  had  never  been  there  before.  I  would  swear  with 
my  dying  breath  that  she  had  never  so  much  as  effleuree 
by  any  man  till  now. 

"  Write  me  a  line,  dear,  by  return,  in  Heaven's  name ! 

"  What  jolly  times  we  have  had  together ! 

"  Yours   incoherently, 

"  HAL." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE   LADY   OF   LYONS. 

DID  ever  the  sun  shine  as  it  shone  on  Windyhaugh 
the  next  morning  ?  The  old  place  was  a  very  fairy-land. 
The  tall  white  lilies  seemed  to  chime  like  bells,  and 
every  rose  in  the  garden  had  lifted  up  its  heart. 

Wilhelmina  was  half  dazed  with  delight.  Her  father 
was  taking  her  to  town  for  the  day;  he  was  in  his  hap- 
piest mood;  he  called  Ann  to  admire  the  effect  of  the 
new  hat  above  the  white  silk  gown,  and  laughed  to  see 
an  unwilling  smile  of  surprise  and  admiration  break  up 
the  dour  lines  of  the  disapproving  face. 

All  this  might  well  have  been  happiness  enough; 
but,  stretching  far  above  and  beyond  it,  like  the  golden 
haze  around  the  landscape  it  irradiates  and  transcends, 
was  the  new,  mystic,  wonderful,  half -apprehended  joy. 

One  can  do  a  good  deal  in  two  short  summer  nights 
and  one  long  summer  day.  In  that  time  Wilhelmina 
had  succeeded  in  investing  Harley  Brentwood  with  all 


THE  LADY  OF  LYONS.  243 

the  virtues  and  graces  of  her  ideal.  The  miracle  had 
happened.  The  fairy  prince  had  ridden  out  of  the 
everywhere,  out  of  the  everywhere  for  her.  How  could 
she  do  enough  to  show  her  passionate  appreciation?  To 
think  that  she  had  judged  life  so  harshly,  so  cruelly! 
Poor  life!  Generous  life,  that  now  was  filling  her  cup 
with  full  measure,  pressed  down,  shaken  together  and 
running  over ! 

Wilhelmina  lunched  with  her  father  at  a  big  hotel 
in  Princes  Street,  and  then  they  set  out  on  foot.  Of 
course  she  asked  no  questions,  and  they  were  in  the 
vestibule  of  the  theatre  before  she  realized  what  was 
taking  place.  Then  a  dozen  conflicting  thoughts  and 
intentions  ran  through  her  mind.  Of  course  she  ought 
to  turn  back  at  once.  She  was  perfectly  sure  about 
that.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  so  pleasant  to  be 
at  one  with  her  father  again!  She  did  so  want  to 
be  lovable  and  childlike!  Moreover  she  could  not 
refuse  to  go  in  without  sacrificing  his  afternoon's 
amusement  too,  for  of  course  he  would  not  leave  her 
alone  in  the  street.  While  she  hesitated,  they  reached 
their  box,  the  curtain  rose,  Miss  Evelyn  flashed  up  a  quiet 
glance  of  recognition,  and  it  was  too  late  to  draw  back. 

Oh,  that  good,  genial,  sentimental  old  play,  The 
Lady  of  Lyons !  What  a  contrast  to  the  flimsy  webs  of 
mood  and  epigram  that  fill — or  empty — our  theatres  in 
these  degenerate  days!  What  a  story  to  make  a  young 
girl's  pulses  leap  with  generous  sympathy!  One  wants 
to  see  The  Lady  of  Lyons  at  Wilhelmina's  age — shall  I 
add,  in  Wilhelmina's  mood? — in  order  to  know  just  all 
that  a  play  ought  to  be. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  act  Brentwood  joined  them. 
His  face  was  very  pale,  but  in  the  uncertain  light 
Wilhelmina  scarcely  noticed  that.  Of  course  the  first 
rush  of  reaction  was  over  for  him;  he  felt  almost  calm 
now;  but,  if  he  still  entertained  any  hope  that  he  had 
not  irrevocably  committed  himself,  Wilhelmina's  first 
upward  glance  dispelled  it  for  ever.  She  could  not 
speak,  but  her  "  soul  stood  up  in  her  eyes,"  and  claimed 
him  for  its  own.  Beyond  all  possibility  of  doubt,  he 
was  the  one  man  in  the  world  for  her. 


244  WINDYHAUGH. 

And  all  this  had  happened  in  three  days — three 
days! 

Well!  She  was  pretty,  and  sweet — and  young.  At 
least  he  could  mould  her  to  his  will.  He  could  not  con- 
ceive a  more  reasonable,  more  docile,  wife  than  she 
would  make:  he  could  not  imagine  her  really  opposing 
him  in  any  way.  And,  just  as  he  was  congratulating 
himself  on  this,  he  realized  for  the  first  time  with  a 
prophetic  flash  that  the  moment  a  man  has  moulded 
a  woman  to  his  will,  her  special  charm  for  him  is  gone. 
He  realized  that  in  some  way  or  another,  spiritually, 
mentally  or  physically,  a  woman  must  constantly  elude 
a  man,  if  she  is  to  retain  her  hold  on  him;  and  herein, 
he  thought  bitterly,  lies  a  fine  and  inspiring,  if  also  a 
humbling,  truth,  for  may  she  not  elude  him  by  her  very 
greatness  ? 

Brentwood  did  not  for  one  moment  fail  to  see  the 
situation  from  Wilhelmina's  point  of  view;  he  was  al- 
most morbidly  anxious  that  she  should  not  find  him 
cold;  but  on  this  score  he  need  not  have  been  uneasy. 
She  looked  for  no  demonstration  in  public,  and  indeed 
the  reserve  of  his  manner  now,  in  contrast  with  the 
fervour  of  that  wondrous  night  on  the  terrace,  thrilled 
her  with  a  sense  of  his  power.  His  presence  hemmed 
her  in  so  completely  that  she  scarcely  noticed  the  fact 
of  which  he  was  overwhelmingly  aware,  that  Mr.  Gal- 
braith  had  gone  out,  and  left  them  alone  in  the  box. 

He  returned,  however,  at  the  beginning  of  the  sec- 
ond act,  and  now  Wilhelmina  gave  herself  up  unre- 
servedly once  more  to  the  play.  She  rejoiced  when 
Pauline  began  to  show  a  human  heart  beneath  her 
worldliness  and  vanity,  and  when  Miss  Evelyn's  fine 
voice  uttered  the  lines — 

"  Even  then 

Methinks  thou  would'st  be  only  made  more  dear 
By  the  sweet  thought  that  I  could  prove  how  deep 
Is  woman's  love  !    We  are  like  the  insects,  caught 
By  the  glittering  of  a  garish  flame  ; 
But,  oh,  the  wings  once  scorched,  the  brightest  star 
Lures  us  no  more  ;  and  by  the  fatal  light 
We  cling  till  death  ! " 


THE  LADY  OF  LYONS.  245 

Ah,  when  Miss  Evelyn  said  that — it  is  well  Wilhelmina 
did  not  know  how  the  words  affected  Harley  Brent- 
wood! 

So  the  story  ran  on  to  the  three  thrilling  scenes  of 
the  renunciation,  the  rescue,  the  final  explanation. 
Wilhelmina  had  a  hard  battle  with  her  tears  during 
the  latter  half  of  the  play,  and  they  got  the  better  of 
her  altogether  when  poor  pale  Pauline  said  in  that  low 
heart-broken  voice — 

"  Tell  him,  for  years  I  never  nursed  a  thought 
That  was  not  his ;— that  on  his  wandering  way, 
Daily  and  nightly,  poured  a  mourner's  prayers. 
Tell  him  ev'n  now  that  I  would  rather  share 
His  lowliest  lot — walk  by  his  side,  an  outcast,— 
Work  for  him,  beg  with  him, — live  upon  the  light 
Of  one  kind  smile  from  him,— than  wear  the  crown 
The  Bourbon  lost ! " 

Wilhelmina  felt  that  the  thought  of  her  heart  had 
been  expressed  at  last! 

The  sudden  raising  of  the  lights  in  the  theatre  dis- 
concerted her  sorely,  and  she  kept  her  head  down  for  a 
few  moments  after  the  curtain  fell.  Then  she  turned 
to  Brentwood. 

"  And  people  say  the  theatre  is  wrong ! "  she  said. 

Mr.  Galbraith  smiled.  "  Miss  Evelyn  wants  you  to 
go  and  dine  with  her  at  her  hotel,  Pussy,"  he  said. 
"  She  is  not  acting  to-riight.  I  will  take  you  to  her 
room  now,  and  call  for  you  in  time  for  the  train.  Do 
you  care  to  pay  your  respects  to  Pauline,  Brentwood? 
All  right.  Come  along.  Perhaps  you  can  arrange  to 
walk  a  little  way  in  my  direction  afterwards.  I  should 
like  to  have  a  word  with  you." 

A  visit  behind  the  scenes  is  scarcely  to  be  recom- 
mended to  any  young  person  who  does  not  wish  to  be 
disillusioned.  Unconsciously  to  herself,  Wilhelmina 
half  expected  to  find  Pauline  still  in  the  surroundings 
in  which  she  had  left  her;  and  the  narrow  dusky  pas- 
sages, the  shabby  professional  loungers,  the  bare  room 
with  its  litter  of  garments  and  cosmetics,  struck  chill 
to  her  heart.  Miss  Evelyn  did  not  detain  her  long, 
however,  and  when  they  were  seated  in  the  great  oriel 


246  WINDYHAUGH. 

window  of  the  hotel,  looking  out  on  the  sunny  green 
gardens,  the  young  girl  forgot  all  about  her  brief  re- 
action. 

"Well,  little  one,"  said  Miss  Evelyn  kindly,  "how 
did  you  like  it  ?  " 

Wilhelmina's  eyes  were  shining. 

"  I  feel,"  she  said  fervently,  "  as  if  I  had  listened  to 
a  dozen  sermons." 

"  Oh,  heavens,  Vilma !     I.  hope  not." 

"  I  do  indeed.  Do  you  know  I  am  almost  frightened. 
I  think  things  are  wrong,  and  then  when  I  come  to 
experience  them,  they  are  so  different  somehow!  It  is 
so  difficult  to  see  where  the  harm  lies.  I  must  be  a 
better  woman  after  to-day!  Oh,  Miss  Evelyn,  it  was 
just — uplifting !  " 

The  actress  smiled.  "  Pauline  is  out  of  date,"  she 
said,  "  but  there  is  no  doubt  she  is  very  fetching." 

"  She  is  splendid !  And  what  a  hero  Melnotte  is ! 
And  even  old  Damas!  I  didn't  care  for  him  at  first, 
but  he  rings  so  true.  What  a  lot  of  good  you  must  do ! 
You  made  me  feel  as  if  I  must  go  right  away  and  give 
my  very  life  for  somebody." 

Miss  Evelyn  looked  mischievous.  "  Somebody  in 
particular  ? " 

The  flush  that  rose  to  Wilhelmina's  cheeks  seemed  to 
make  her  eyes  shine  more  brightly  than  ever.  "  I  didn't 
mean  anybody  in  particular." 

Her  friend  laughed.  "  Oh,  Vilma,  Vilma,  don't  try 
to  deceive  me.  I  have  no  doubt  some  old  stagers  in  the 
house  to-day  thought  The  Lady  of  Lyons  a  very  poor 
affair  compared  with  the  little  drama  that  was  going  on 
in  one  of  the  boxes." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  speak.  She  was  gazing  out  over 
the  gardens. 

"Happy,  petite?" 

"  Yes."  The  commonplace  little  word  shook  under 
the  weight  of  meaning  it  contained. 

Miss  Evelyn  sighed,  and  glanced  at  the  magnificent 
diamond  on  her  own  finger. 

Wilhelmina  was  the  one  to  break  the  silence  after  all. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful  ?  "  she  said. 


THE  CHAINS  ARE  RIVETTED.  247 

"  What  ?  I  don't  know.  One  has  heard  of  the  same 
sort  of  thing  happening  before." 

"  But  not  like  this.  Oh,  Miss  Evelyn,  isn't  it  wonder- 
ful that  he  should  think  of  me  ?  " 

There  was  another  silence. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  the  actress  at  last,  "  you  will 
think  me  a  brute  if  I  tell  you  a  few  home  truths,  and  yet 
— there  is  no  one  else  to  do  it.  It  is  dangerous  work  to 
fall  in  love  at  Windyhaugh.  Your  life  there  is  so  quiet, 
so  sentimental,  so  romantic,  that  you  can't  see  this  affair 
in  its  true  proportion.  I  don't  want  you  not  to  give 
yourself  up  to  it,  because  of  course  it  is  the  greatest 
happiness  you  will  ever  know.  But  don't  squander  it. 
If  Brentwood  was  a  god,  it  would  be  safe  enough;  but 
men  are  not  built  to  stand  this  sort  of  thing.  Try  to 
keep  just  one  little  corner  of  your  being  sane.  Worship 
him  with  all  the  rest  if  you  like;  but  in  that  one  little 
corner  realize  that  he  is  only  an  ordinary  young  man — 
rather  pedantic,  a  bit  of  a  prig — though  that,  of  course, 
is  not  a  bad  fault  at  his  age." 

Wilhelmina  raised  yearning  pathetic  eyes.  Teach- 
able though  she  was,  it  did  not  even  cross  her  mind  that 
there  was  truth  and  reason  in  her  friend's  words. 

"  Miss  Evelyn,"  she  pleaded  shyly,  "  don't  stop  being 
Pauline!" 


CHAPTEK  XXXVI. 

THE   CHAINS   ARE   RIVETTED. 

"  IT  takes  a  long  spoon  to  sup  with  him,  eh  ? " 
The  words  had  rung  in  Brentwood's  ears  all  morning, 
but  they  were  silenced  and  forgotten  the  moment  he  en- 
tered the  box  at  the  Lyceum.  Mr.  Galbraith  looked  so 
quiet,  so  scholarly,  so  completely  master  of  himself  and  of 
the  situation,  that  before  long  Brentwood  began  to  won- 
der whether  he  had  not  been  guilty  of  unpardonable  au- 
dacity in  making  love  to  the  daughter  of  such  a  man. 
Why  in  the  world  should  Mr.  Galbraith  wish  to  have 


248  WINDYHAUGH. 

him  for  a  son-in-law  ?  Was  he  not  born  to  have  his  own 
way?  Even  in  the  simple  matter  of  the  visit  to  Miss 
Evelyn  his  manner  was  so  distinctive  of  himself,  so  un- 
like that  of  ordinary  green-room  habitues,  that — if  Wil- 
helmina's  eyes  had  only  been  less  eloquent — she  might 
have  had  Brentwood  at  her  feet  once  more. 

The  two  men  walked  down  towards  Princes  Street  in 
silence.  Brentwood  was  wondering  desperately  what  he 
ought  to  say,  or  whether,  indeed,  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  say  anything. 

But  his  companion  soon  dissipated  all  doubt  on  that 
score. 

"  Well,  Brentwood,"  he  said  not  unkindly,  "  you  and 
my  little  girl  have  stolen  a  march  on  me." 

Brentwood's  face  burned.  "  I  am  sure  I  am  very 
sorry,  sir,"  he  stammered,  all  unconscious  of  the  unfor- 
tunate double  entendre.  "  Of  course  I  ought  to  have 
spoken  to  you  first.  I  need  not  say — I  need  not  say " 

Mr.  Galbraith's  smile  was  a  sad  one.  "  You  wonder 
how  I  know  ?  "  he  said  quietly.  "  Wild  horses  would  not 
have  drawn  the  secret  from  the  child — in  words;  but  I 
know  her  face  so  well.  Ah,  Pygmalion,  Pygmalion !  Of 
course  one  has  seen  the  miracle  happen  before,  but  you 
can't  guess  what  it  means  when  it  comes  to  one's  own 
little  girl.  It  makes  a  man  feel  very  old — and  horribly, 
unreasonably  jealous.  One  does  not  want  her  to  be  an 
old  maid,  yet  no  man  on  earth  is  good  enough  for — 
one's  own  little  girl !  "  The  ring  of  sincerity  in  his  voice 
was  unmistakable. 

"  That  I  can  well  believe,"  said  Brentwood  warmly. 

"  One  never  realizes  till  it  comes  so  near  how  great 
the  change  is.  One  day  a  child,  heartwhole  and  happy, 
thinking  of  nothing  but  her  religion  and  her  frocks — I 
had  almost  said,  her  dolls ! — and  her  poor  old  dad.  The 
next,  a  woman — born  again — a  woman  with  the  love-light 
in  her  eyes." 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  sir,  that  I  am  well  aware  how 
much  I  am  presuming." 

Mr.  Galbraith  nodded.  "  I  confess  that  at  one  time 
I  did  look  higher.  You  probably  know  that  Wilhelmina 
and  I  are  the  unlucky  branch  of  the  family.  She  was 


THE  CHAINS  ARE  EIVETTED.  249 

to  have  come  out  next  season  under  the  auspices  of  her 
mother's  sister,  but  the  child  had  some  odd  religious 
scruple  that  I  did  not  like  to  override.  I  have  always 
tried,  as  far  as  I  could,  to  leave  her  a  free  hand.  She 
is  a  good  girl,  Brentwood,  good  as  gold,  and  under  your 
influence  she  will  broaden  and  mellow.  After  all,  she 
can  do  no  better  than  marry  a  good  and  able  man — who 
has  won  her  heart." 

"  I  am  well  aware  that  she  is  a  world  too  good  for 
me." 

"  Nay,  you  must  not  think  that  I  cannot  see  the  ques- 
tion as  a  man  of  the  world.  I  gather  from  what  you  told 
me  one  evening  that  you  are  in  a  position  to  support 
a  wife,  not  in  affluence,  but  in  reasonable  comfort.  We 
are  not  rich,  and  my  life  is  in  every  way  an  uncertain 
one.  Wilhelmina  has  her  scant  pin-money.  At  my 
death  she  will  have  Windyhaugh,  and — whatever  I  leave 
behind ;  but  I  fear  it  will  not  be  much.  I  am  well  aware, 
Brentwood,  that  the  child  will  be  more  fortunate  in  her 
husband  than  she  has  ever  been  in  her  father." 

"  I  would  not  hear  your  enemy  say  so,  sir." 

Mr.  Galbraith  laid  his  hand  on  the  young  man's 
shoulder.  "  I  believe  you  would  not,  Brentwood,"  he 
said  with  real  feeling.  "  God  knows  I  quite  realize  what 
a  loyal  fellow  you  are !  " 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  little  way.  "  I  wish 
I  could  ask  you  to  dine  with  me,"  Mr.  Galbraith  said  at 
last,  "  but  I  am  engaged  to  dinner  with  a  friend  at  his 
club  here.  Good-night.  I  suppose  we  shall  see  you  at 
Windyhaugh  early  in  the  week  ?  " 

An  hour  or  two  later  he  called  for  Wilhelmina. 

"  You  had  better  be  putting  your  hat  on,"  he  said 
kindly ;  "  but  don't  hurry.  We  have  plenty  of  time." 

This  at  least  was  a  hint  that  she  was  abundantly  ca- 
pable of  taking.  But  he  did  not  speak  when  she  left 
the  room. 

"  Well,"  Miss  Evelyn  said  at  last,  "  so  it  is  settled? " 

He  nodded. 

"  And  you  are  satisfied  ? " 

He  shrugged  his   shoulders.     "Is  it  likely?    I  am 


250  WINDYHAUGH. 

only  human.  I  never  imagined  that  I  should  be  satisfied 
— when  it  was  settled;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  not 
realized  how  the  child  has  made  her  way — has  made  her 
way — into  my — my  life." 

"  I  think  she  is  a  darling." 

"  Still,  it  was  the  best  thing  to  do  under  the  circum- 
stances. She  overturned  my  own  little  plans  for  her 
welfare.  I  may  be  away  for  years,  and  it  is  not  right 
that  she  should  be  alone  at  Windyhaugh." 

"  Is  your  American  millionaire  so  irresistible  ? " 

"He  is  something  better  than  that:  he  is  precisely 
what  I  -choose  to  make  him.  The  boy  has  taken  a  curi- 
ous fancy  to  venerate  me,  and  he  does  not  get  on  my 
nerves.  The  combination  is  more  than  at  my  time  of 
life  I  had  any  right  to  expect." 

"  True."  She  smiled  cynically.  "  Especially  in  a 
millionaire." 

"  Especially  in  a  millionaire." 

"When  do  you  start?" 

"  In  September  sometime." 

"And  where?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Wherever  the  fancy  moves  me. 
Brentwood  is  a  thoroughly  reliable  fellow  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  110  doubt.  '  A  young  lady  decorously 
brought  up  should  only  have  two  considerations  in  her 
choice  of  a  husband — first,  is  his  birth  honourable? — 
secondly,  will  his  death  be  advantageous  ? ' ' 

"His  birth  is  well  enough.  His  money  is  in  the 
funds.  Macintyre  saw  to  that." 

"  I  hope  he  is  sufficiently  in  love  ?  " 

A  cloud  passed  over  Mr.  Galbraith's  face.  "  Wilhel- 
mina  will  develop,"  he  said  tersely. 

"  I  have  been  giving  her  a  hint  not  to  spoil  the  young 
man." 

"  That's  right.  I  should  have  been  afraid  of  over- 
doing it." 

"  Not  much  fear  of  that.  She  has  taken  the  com- 
plaint in  its  full  force." 

"  I  suppose  so.     It  is  a  family  weakness." 

"  Indeed.  I  never  observed  the  weakness  in — the 
family,  till  now.  She  was  so  exaltee  that  I  could  not 


THE  CHAINS  ARE  RIVETTED.  251 

bring  myself  to  tell  her  of  my  prosaic,  fade,  middle-aged 
marriage.  Break  it  to  her,  will  you  ?  " 

He  smiled.     "  Poor  Ronald  I" 

"  Oh,  Ronald  is  all  right.  He  abundantly  makes  up 
for  any  shortcomings  on  my  part.  It  is  time  you  were 
starting.  Good-night,  George.  We  have  been  excellent 
comrades,  have  we  not  ?  " 

"Excellent  comrades!" 

"  Take  care !     I  hear  Wilhelmina." 

Brentwood  was  weary  with  conflicting  emotions  when 
he  wrent  to  his  room  that  night.  He  knew  in  a  vague 
way  that  his  chains  were  rivetted  now — "  God  knows  I 
quite  realize  what  a  loyal  fellow  you  are !  " — and  for  the 
moment  he  did  not  greatly  care.  The  one  thing  to  which 
he  definitely  looked  forward  was  his  sister's  letter;  he 
longed  to  hear  that  she  did  not  despise  him,  that  she  was 
not  too  cruelly  surprised;  but  he  had  almost  ceased  to 
hope  that  she  could  throw  any  fresh  light  on  the  situ- 
ation. 

Her  letter  arrived  without  loss  of  a  post.  Honor  had 
not  knelt  for  hours  in  prayer  before  writing  it,  as  Wil- 
helmina in  her  circumstances  would  have  done.  Of 
course  it  was  not  written  without  a  struggle,  and  yet  in  a 
sense  it  was  the  spontaneous  expression  of  her  mind. 

"  MY  DEAR  HAL  :  I  must  begin  by  telling  you  that  my 
first  feeling  on  reading  your  letter  was  one  of  profound 
thankfulness  that  you  should  have  written  to  me  just 
like  that.  '  You  being  what  you  are/  it  is  a  letter  of 
which  a  sister  may  well  be  proud ;  but  we  have  not  been 
an  ordinary  brother  and  sister,  have  we,  Hal  ? 

"  Well,  dear,  of  course  I  was  surprised,  and,  of  course 
— in  a  way,  as  you  say,  I  don't  understand  it;  but  if  a 
good  man's  nature  takes  him  by  surprise — I  dislike  your 
word,  emotions — if  a  good  man's  nature  is  his  destiny,  I 
must  cling  to  the  belief  that  in  spite  of  appearances  the 
destiny  is  a  good,  or  at  least  a  fine  one.  At  worst  I 
would  rather  you  became  engaged  like  this  than  that 
you  set  out  in  cold  blood,  as  some  men  do,  to  look  for  a 
suitable  wife. 
IT 


252  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  I  say  '  in  spite  of  appearances/  because  of  course, 
for  love  of  my  sex  as  well  as  for  love  of  Hal,  I  should 
have  wished  you  to  marry  a  woman  to  whom  you  would 
look  up  as  much  as  she  looked  up  to  you.  But  your 
'little  devote7  is  young:  she  may  develop. 

"  Am  I  a  brute,  Hal — a  cold-hearted  brute,  to  write 
as  I  do?  Some  women,  perhaps,  would  urge  you  to 
break  this  thing  off,  to  treat  it  as  a  mere  entanglement. 
I  confess  for  one  moment  I  did  think  of  that;  but  of 
course  you  would  not  listen  to  me  if  I  proposed  it.  I 
gather  that  circumstances  were  hard  upon  you,  but  after 
all  you  were  a  free  moral  agent;  and  if  you  drew  from 
the  lips  of  an  innocent  girl  the  confession  that  she  loved 
you — you  have  to  all  intents  and  purposes  married  her. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  passage  we  liked  so  much  in 
John  Inglesant  ? — i  It  may  be  that  in  some  other  place 
God  would  have  found  for  you  other  work;  you  have 
failed  in  attaining  that  place ;  serve  Him  where  you  are. 
If  you  fall  still  lower,  or  imagine  you  fall  lower,  still 
serve  Him  in  the  lowest  room  of  all.'  What  more  can 
you  want,  Hal,  dear?  There  are  your  marching  orders. 
We  may  live  to  bless  the  day  when  your  nature  took 
you  by  surprise,  and  you  married  the  little  devote. 

"  Yours  as  always, 

"  HONOR. 

"  P.  8. — I  open  my  letter  in  haste  to  tell  you  that 
Aunt  Marian  is  seriously  ill.  They  want  me  to  go  to 
her,  so  I  am  starting  for  Rothesay  at  once.  Dear  old 
boy,  it  goes  to  my  heart  to  think  I  shall  not  be  at  The 
Pines  to  welcome  you  back,  but  I  will  write  every  day, 
and  hurry  home  the  first  minute  I  can  be  spared.  God 
bless  you ! " 


LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM.  253 

CHAPTEK  XXXVII. 

LOVE'S   YOUNG  DREAM. 

IT  was  Brentwood  who  expressed  the  wish  that  the 
wedding  should  take  place  as  soon  as  possible.  Of  course 
in  doing  so  he  was  guided  mainly  by  impulse,  though 
he  believed  himself  to  be  acting  on  mature  consideration. 
In  the  course  of  the  week  following  the  matinee,  he 
found  that  Wilhelmina  had  by  no  means  altogether  lost 
her  charm  for  him.  The  tide  had  turned  of  course. 
Well,  let  him  seize  it  before  its  lowest  ebb!  He  antici- 
pated great  things  from  his  first  real  love,  and  the  feel- 
ings he  experienced  now  fell  very  far  short  of  his 
expectations.  He  had  dreamed  of  a  love  altogether  con- 
vincing, and  he  was  bitterly  ashamed  of  his  own  weak- 
ness and  uncertainty  and  vacillation.  He  still  believed 
himself  to  be  capable  of  a  great  passion,  and  he  dreaded 
lest  he  should  meet  the  woman  who  would  call  it  forth. 
Better  burn  his  boats  at  once  and  be  done  with  it!  At 
least  he  could  say  now  that  there  was  no  woman  whom 
he  cared  for  more  than  he  cared  for  Wilhelmina.  A 
year  hence  she  and  he  would  have  settled  down,  and  it 
would  matter  little  whether  love's  young  dream  had  been 
everything  that  he  had  longed  for.  After  all,  love  was 
very  disturbing:  there  were  a  thousand  interests  in  life 
besides  love! 

For  many  reasons  the  suggestion  seemed  a  desirable 
one.  Mr.  Galbraith  was  going  abroad.  Wilhelmina  was 
eighteen — too  old  to  return  to  school;  not  too  young  to 
be  married. 

Her  heart  beat  fast  when  the  idea  of  a  speedy  mar- 
riage was  first  mooted,  but  she  raised  no  coquettish  ob- 
jection. She  trusted  Brentwood  profoundly;  she  was 
never  weary  of  his  society ;  when  his  arm  was  round  her 
she  was  perfectly  happy.  What  more  did  she  want  to 
feel,  to  know? 

Mr.  Galbraith  was  greatly  preoccupied  with  his  own 
affairs  for  the  next  few  weeks.  Much  of  his  time  was 
spent  in  Edinburgh  and  London;  but,  when  he  came  to 


254:  WINDYHAUGH. 

Windyhaugh,  his  manner  was  more  than  kind,  it  was 
tender;  and  ne  seldom  came  empty-handed.  Sometimes 
his  gift  was  a  mere  trifle;  at  other  times  it  was  of  real 
intrinsic  value ;  and  of  course  it  was  he  who  chose  the 
girlish  white  Liberty  gown,  so  unlike  the  conventional 
wedding-dress  of  those  days. 

"  Now  I  must  not  interfere  any  more,"  he  said  play- 
fully one  day.  "  She  has  excellent  taste  of  her  own ;  " 
and,  sitting  down  to  his  writing-table,  he  wrote  a  cheque. 

"  Fifty  pounds !  "  exclaimed  Wilhelmina.  "  I  can 
never  spend  all  that !  " 

A  look  of  real  pain  crossed  his  face,  and  there  was  a 
note  of  pathetic  appeal  in  his  voice  that  she  had  never 
heard  there  before. 

"  Don't,  little  one !  "  he  said  hastily.  "  No  one  knows 
better  than  the  old  dad  that  it  is  not  what  it  ought  to 
be.  But  as  you  are  going  to  spend  your  honeymoon 
quietly  at  The  Pines,  you  won't  need  much,  and  even  in 
London  I  don't  suppose  you  will  be  very  gay  just  at 
first.  It  doesn't  matter  if  you  have  few  things,  so  long 
as  they  are  good,  and  you  know  your  boots  and  gloves 
must  be  specially  good." 

She  nodded,  blushing.  It  seemed  to  her  extraordi- 
nary condescension  that  he  should  stoop  to  such  details 
as  these. 

He  drew  her  down  on  his  knee  in  his  quiet  masterful 
fashion. 

"  She  is  a  little  bit  fond  of  the  old  man  ? " 

The  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Father,"  she  said,  "  I  love  you  so  that  it  hurts ! 
It  seems  like  a  fairy  tale  that  you  should  be  so  good 
to  me." 

"  But  she  is  quite  happy  to  leave  him  ?  "  he  said  with 
a  playfulness  that  strove  to  belie  the  cloud  on  his  brow. 

"  Never  happy  to  leave  him ;  but  very  very  happy !  " 

"  That's  right !  And  yet  the  Fates  might  have  been 
kinder  to  you  and  me,  little  one.  Do  you  know  I  can't 
face  a  night  in  the  old  place  without  its  missis?  I  will 
take  the  night  train  to  London,  and  cross  the  Channel 
next  day.  We  should  have  enjoyed  a  little  more  of  each 
other's  society,  should  we  not  ?  " 


LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM.         255 

She  kissed  his  hand,  afraid  to  say  one  word  more  than 
she  truthfully  could.  Indeed  she  would  have  been  abun- 
dantly satisfied  with  his  society  for  years ;  but,  now  that 
Harley  Brehtwood  had  crossed  her  path,  her  imagina- 
tion failed  to  picture  life  without  him. 

"  Have  you  heard  again  from  Miss  Brentwood  ?  " 

"  Not  since  that  beautiful  letter  I  showed  you.  She 
is  still  in  Kothesay." 

Mr.  Galbraith's  lip  curled  almost  imperceptibly.  The 
letter  in  question  had  struck  him  as  being  somewhat 
oppressively  beautiful,  but  there  was  no  use  in  telling 
Wilhelmina  that.  He  realized— what  so  few  of  us  re- 
alize!— the  absurdity  of  arming  people  with  weapons 
they  cannot  wield.  "  Wilhelmina  must  win  her  way," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  She  will  win  her  way." 

With  all  his  wisdom,  however,  Mr.  Galbraith  was  at 
fault  when  he  spoke  of  Wilhelmina's  taste  in  dress.  He 
had  often  seen  her  simply  and  becomingly  attired,  and 
had  naturally  assumed  that  the  credit  was  due  to  her.  As 
it  happened,  she  had  given  extremely  little  thought  to  the 
subject  until  the  last  few  weeks,  and  she  had  spent  so 
small  a  portion  of  her  life  with  well-dressed  women  that 
she  had  many  false  steps  to  make  before  she  could  be 
expected  to  find  her  feet. 

When  it  came  to  the  all-important  choice  of  a  "  go- 
ing-away  gown,"  she  mentally  ran  her  eye  over  Miss 
Evelyn's  many  costumes  in  search  of  a  fitting  inspira- 
tion. One  there  was  that  specially  appealed  to  her 
fancy — a  dove-grey  cashmere  and  little  plumed  bonnet 
with  a  spray  of  apple-blossom  under  the  brim.  Surely 
no  conception  could  have  been  safer,  but  Wilhelmina  had 
yet  to  learn  that  it  is  one  thing  to  conceive,  another  to 
realize. 

Miss  Evelyn's  gown  had  been  bought  in  the  Montagne 
de  la  Cour:  it  would  have  seemed  to  Wilhelmina  un- 
pardonable extravagance  to  have  hers  made  by  anyone 
more  pretentious  than  the  new  dressmaker  at  Queens- 
mains.  This  lady  considered  herself  immeasurably  su- 
perior to  her  predecessor — the  creator  of  the  roomy 
frocks  that  helped  to  darken  Wilhelmina's  childhood — 
her  laudable  ambition  was  to  have  "  something  fresh " 


256  WINDYHAUGH. 

about  every  gown  she  turned  out,  and  she  made  up  her 
mind  that  the  one  thing  essential  to  Wilhelmina's  quak- 
erlike  grey  was  an  elaborate  trimming  of  steel  that  she 
had  in  stock.  All  Wilhelmina's  instincts  were  against 
that  steel;  but  she  was  young,  timid,  uncertain;  the 
dressmaker  was  mature,  loquacious,  resolved;  so  of 
course  Wilhelmina  gave  way. 

The  hat  was  a  source  of  trouble  too.  "  That  really  is 
the  same  dye,"  the  shopman  assured  her ;  "  of  course  it 
doesn't  turn  out  exactly  the  same  in  straw  as  it  does  in 
wool;  but,  if  you  think  of  it,  it  is  an  excellent  match." 
So  it  was — an  excellent  match,  and  Wilhelmina  scarcely 
allowed  herself  to  reflect  that  no  one  would  have  thought 
it  necessary  to  make  that  remark  about  Miss  Evelyn's 
bonnet.  Then  there  was  something  wrong  about  the 
apple-blossom.  It  didn't  seem  quite  at  home  somehow; 
but  the  poor  little  bride  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
was  hypercritical,  and  she  resolved  to  banish  from  her 
mind  a  subject  which  had  already  caused  her  a  great 
deal  more  anxiety  than  it  was  worth. 

"  What  does  it  matter,  after  all  ? "  she  said  to  herself. 
"Whatever  I  wear,  I  am  still  Wilhelmina  Galbraith." 
And  herein  lay  a  great  mistake,  for  of  course  there  was 
only  one  gown  among  hundreds  in  which  she  was  quite 
Wilhelmina  Galbraith. 

She  was  woman  enough,  however,  to  extract  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure  out  of  her  simple  trousseau.  One  ar- 
ticle after  another  took  its  place  in  a  golden  dream.  In 
this  she  would  pour  out  the  tea  after  the  sunny  tete-a- 
tete  breakfast;  in  that  she  would  await  her  husband's 
home-coming  in  the  lamp-lit  evening;  in  a  third  she 
would  kneel  by  his  side  in  church.  With  reckless  ex- 
travagance she  heaped  the  colours  on  her  palette  when 
she  painted  her  vision  of  the  future.  All  that  was  noble 
and  chivalrous  in  man  she  heaped  on  Harley.  With  all 
that  was  good  and  simple  she  endowed  their  common 
life.  How  could  she  fail,  in  such  surroundings,  to  be 
an  ideal  woman?  She  often  kept  a  book  of  poetry  open 
by  her  side  while  she  stitched  her  pretty  white  garments, 
and  her  heart  now  thrilled  in  sympathy  with  the  heroines 
of  romance,  now  poured  itself  forth  in  aspiration  that 


WEDDING  GIFTS.  257 

she  might  be  worthy  of  them — worthy  of  Harley  Brent- 
wood.  For  the  first  time  she  read  a  letter  from  the  lead- 
ing girl  with  whole-hearted  sympathy.  "  How  surprised 
they  will  be,"  thought  Wilhelmina,  "  when  they  hear  that 
I  am  the  first !  " 

The  weather  was  very  wet  through  the  early  part  of 
September,  and  Brentwood  was  hard  at  work,  so  he  did 
not  often  come  to  see  her;  but  his  letters  and  his  pres- 
ence alike  harmonized  with  the  tone  of  her  dream.  Once 
or  twice  in  their  intercourse  she  was  conscious  of  a  feel- 
ing of  chill,  like  the  easterly  haar  that  stole  up  so  often 
from  the  sea;  but,  almost  before  she  had  time  to  ask 
herself  what  it  meant,  his  manner  became  tender  as  be- 
fore, and  she  blamed  herself  for  expecting  too  much. 
No  real  cloud  of  misunderstanding  rose  between  them; 
Wilhelmina  wondered  what  people  meant  who  talked  of 
lovers'  quarrels. 

She  was  not  one  of  those  women  "  who  would  like  to 
stop  everything  at  April";  but  "her  heart  was  still  at 
the  early  spring"  nevertheless;  and,  although  it  was 
Harley's  rush  of  passion  that  had  carried  her  off  her 
feet,  she  liked  him  best  in  this  quiet,  self -restrained  mood. 
The  other  almost  frightened  her.  Of  course  she  would 
have  been  sorry  to  think  that  the  furnace  had  burned 
itself  out,  but  was  there  not  every  now  and  then  a 
ruddy  gleam  to  convince  her  that  this  was  not  so  ?  What 
experience  had  she  to  make  her  fear  that  the  gleam  rose 
from  dying  embers? 

So  the  days  ran  on,  and  Wilhelmina  dreamed  her 
dream. 


CHAPTEE  XXXVIII. 

WEDDING   GIFTS. 

"Mon  "brave  I "  Enid's  voice  was  very  tender  and  piti- 
ful. "  Don't  fret,  Hugh.  We'll  get  it  put  right  yet.  I 
believe  half  the  men  who  do  pass  have  no  notion  how  to 
sit  a  horse.  The  British  Army  will  soon  be  like  those 


258  WINDYHAUGH. 

queer   creatures  we   saw   at  Drury  Lane — huge   heads 
with  little  spindling  legs  underneath !  " 

"  You're  awfully  good,  Mater.  I  should  have  gone 
and  hanged  myself  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

"  Hush,  child !  You  make  me  shudder.  Suppose  you 
go  and  see  Eonald.  He'll  cheer  you  up." 

"  Oh,  Ronald's  no  good  since  he  got  engaged." 

"And  where's  Gavin?" 

Hugh  smiled  whimsically.  "  Gavin's  writing  poetry 
in  his  own  room." 

Enid  laughed.  "  It  is  really  too  ridiculous — a  girl 
he  has  not  even  seen !  " 

"  What  gits  me  is  that  he  should  be  so  frank  about 
it.  But  of  course  he  is  scarcely  more  than  a  kid.  You 
know,  Mater,  his  poetry  is  awfully  good.  Just  you  lis- 
ten— 

1  '  Though  only  by  thy  name  thou'rt  known, 

Yet  to  my  fancy's  eye, 
A  form,  a  face,  to  match  that  name 
Seem  ever  passing  by. 

"  '  A  form  of  matchless  symmetry, 

A  face  divinely  fair ; 
Such  grace,  such  sweet  simplicity 
Seem  ever  blending  there.'  " 

Enid  laughed  again.  "  If  the  girl  receives  that  effu- 
sion, she  will  be  afraid  to  show  herself.  Any  more  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  is  hammering  away  at  the  third  verse  now. 
You  see  he  can't  stop  there,  and  the  question  is — what 
to  say  next  ?  I  can't  think  how  he  does  it.  It  seems  to 
me  quite  as  good  as  the  stuff  you  read  in  books." 

The  conversation  was  checked  by  the  appearance  of 
the  poet,  a  fair-haired  lad,  almost  painfully  tall,  and  cer- 
tainly "  much  too  pretty  to  be  a  boy."  He  put  his  arm 
round  his  mother's  neck  and  kissed  her — evidently  for 
the  sheer  pleasure  of  doing  it.  Hugh  had  been  right  in 
saying  that  his  brother  trailed  no  clouds  of  glory,  but  in 
many  respects  Gavin  was  still  the  simple  affectionate 
child  he  had  been  long  years  before  at  Windyhaugh. 

"  I  have  been  reading  such  a  delightful  article  in 
this  month's  Cartwright,"  Enid  said— "'  In  the  Hop 


WEDDING  GIFTS.  259 

Country.'  Have  you  seen  it,  Hugh?  The  pictures  are 
charming." 

Hugh  took  the  magazine  listlessly.  "  Who  is  it  by  ? 
Harley  Brentwood!  Oh,  M ater,  what  a  duffer  I  am!  I 
quite  forgot  I  had  a  piece  of  news  for  you.  Wilhel- 
mina's  engaged." 

"Wilhelmina  Galbraith ?— and  to  whom?" 

"  This  fellow — Brentwood.  Don't  you  remember  I 
told  you  Uncle  George  had  saved  his  life?  They  are  to 
be  married  almost  immediately." 

"  Who  told  you  ?     Are  you  sure  it  is  true  ?  " 

"  Brentwood  told  me.  He  ought  to  know.  He  had 
run  up  to  see  his  publishers.  The  wedding  is  to  be  quite 
private." 

It  was  a  minute  before  Enid  spoke.  "  Does  he  seem 
elated?" 

"  Oh,  with  a  fellow  like  that  you  never  can  tell.  I 
haven't  the  key  to  his  blessed  old  clockwork.  His  face 
was  like  a  mask.  I  felt  inclined  to  suggest  that  he 
should  go  back  to  Geneva  to  be  repaired." 

"  But  didn't  you  try  to  draw  him  ?  " 

"  I  did.  I  said  if  Wilhelmina  wasn't  quite  so  good, 
I  should  be  infernally  jealous.  I  said  all  she  wanted  was 
a  dash  of  the  devil." 

"  But  he  failed  to  rise?  " 

"  Rather.  He  froze.  He  is  an  awfully  clever  fellow, 
but  a  beast  of  a  prig." 

"  Then  I  should  think  they  are  well-mated — not  that 
Wilhelmina  is  clever.  Well!  I  am  sure  it  is  the  best 
thing  that  could  have  happened.  We  must  run  up  to 
town,  Hugh,  and  see  what  Arrowsmith  has  in  the  way 
of  tea-services.  The  child  won't  have  many  presents, 
and  I  should  like  to  give  her  something  really  nice.  Who 
did  you  say  this  Brentwood  was  ? " 

Wilhelmina's  presents  were  certainly  a  pathetic  sight. 
Enid's  beautiful  tea-service  was  followed  by  a  pearl  neck- 
let from  Ronald.  Miss  Evelyn  sent  a  really  suitable 
dressing-bag;  Fergus  Dalrymple  a  cheque  for  fifty 
pounds.  Even  Hugh  and  Gavin  added  their  offerings, 
and  Wilhelmina  received  from  her  father  a  remnant  of 


260  WINDYHAUGH. 

her  mother's  jewels.  The  other  gifts  were  chiefly  pro- 
vincial, or  even  home-made,  articles  from  local  acquaint- 
ances. 

Mr.  Galbraith  expressed  his  contempt  for  the  whole 
vulgar  system  of  wedding-presents,  but  Wilhelmina  was 
all  innocence.  She  was  amazed  at  the  multitude  of  her 
possessions,  and  she  apologized  to  Brentwood,  not  for 
the  tea-cosies  and  antimacassars,  but  for  the  massive 
silver  and  pearls. 

But  what  took  them  all  by  surprise  was  the  showy 
expensive  gilt  clock  which  Mr.  Darsie  had  chosen  with 
such  care. 

"What  is  he  driving  at?"  said  Mr.  Galbraith  in  be- 
wilderment. "  What  does  he  want  ?  " 

"  Father !  "  said  Wilhelmina  reproachfully,  "  he  is  the 
oldest  friend  I  have.  I  can't  tell  you  how  good  to  me 
he  was  when  I  was  a  child." 

"  Your  grandmother  didn't  see  much  of  him  surely  ?  " 

"  No — nothing  at  all  scarcely.  But  I  did — a  great 
deal." 

"  Well,  you  are  an  odd  little  puss ! " 

On  the  whole  Mr.  Darsie  had  been  not  a  little  pleased 
to  hear  of  Wilhelmina's  engagement  to  a  "  college  man," 
and  he  could  not  understand  why  Mr.  Carmichael  refused 
to  share  his  enthusiasm. 

"  What  ails  ye  at  the  young  man  ? "  he  asked  in  sur- 
prise. "Did  ye  hear  he  had  a  Double  First  at  Cam- 
bridge?" 

"  Oh,  nothing !  In  the  first  place  Wilhelmina  is  too 
young  to  be  married  at  all;  in  the  second  she  is  far  too 
good  for  him;  in  the  third — I  am  sorry  she  should 
marry  a  man  who  studied  for  the  ministry,  and  threw  it 
up  because — because  he  discovered  that  his  creed  was  all 
moonshine." 

Mr.  Darsie's  face  beamed  with  sympathetic  interest. 

"Did  he  though?  My  word,  but  I'd  like  to  ha'e  a 
crack  wi'  him !  " 


AT  THE  PINES.  261 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

AT   THE   PINES. 

THROUGH  the  wet  weeks  of  early  September  Honor 
Brentwood  was  kept  in  close  attendance  on  her  aunt. 
Harley  spent  much  of  his  time  alone  at  The  Pines, 
struggling  to  work,  steadily  falling  a  prey  to  an  over- 
whelming nervous  reaction.  Few  educated,  highly- 
strung  men  can  hope  altogether  to  escape  such  an  ex- 
perience in  these  days  of  nerve  wear  and  tear,  but  the 
Fates  are  cruel  indeed  when  they  deal  the  blow  on  the 
eve  of  a  man's  wedding. 

Poor  Harley !  Everything  was  against  him  just  then. 
Although  The  Pines  had  been  in  the  possession  of  the 
family  for  some  years,  Mrs.  Brentwood's  long  illness  had 
prevented  their  making  it  their  home  until  recently,  and 
Harley  had  not  realized  how  much  his  enjoyment  of  the 
place  was  dependent  on  Honor's  strong  and  restful  per- 
sonality. He  missed  her  constantly,  and  the  house 
seemed  as  lonely  as  the  grave.  He  had  loved  the  quiet 
of  his  "  tame  pine-wood,"  but  now  it  was  full  of  weird 
noises,  and  the  cooing  of  the  pigeons  was  becoming  al- 
most more  than  he  could  bear.  He  had  revelled  in  the 
varying  effects  of  the  sunlight  through  the  boughs,  but 
now  all  was  gloom;  a  raindrop  hung  from  every  twig, 
and  the  measured  drip,  drip,  on  the  carpet  of  pine  needles 
seemed  to  count  the  idle  moments  as  they  hurried  him  on. 
Oh,  that  endless  drip!  It  caught  the  rhythm  of  Poe's 
grains  of  sand  at  last,  and  cried  in  Brentwood's  ears — 

"  How  few !  yet  how  they  creep 
Through  my  fingers  to  the  deep 
While  I  weep— while  I  weep ! " 

He  ought  to  have  worked?  Of  course  he  ought  to 
have  worked.  But  the  work  he  had  on  hand  might  well 
have  given  him  pause  in  his  happiest  hours.  In  a  mo- 
ment of  sanguine  self-confidence,  mindful  of  his  brilliant 
place  in  the  Natural  Science  Tripos,  he  had  suggested  to 


262  WINDYHAUGH. 

his  publisher  a  book  on  plant  life,  "  somewhat  on  the 
lines  of  Ruskin's  Ethics  of  the  Dust."  Ruskin's  con- 
ception had  suggested  a  few  parallel  instances  from 
plant  life,  and  the  publisher — whose  faith  in  Brentwood's 
future  was  enough  to  humble  any  man — had  accepted 
the  idea  with  effusion.  Could  the  book  be  ready  for 
Christmas  ? 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  Brentwood  had  answered  gaily,  but 
hitherto  the  scheme  had  not  progressed  very  far,  and, 
now  that  he  felt  bound  to  tackle  it  in  all  seriousness, 
the  fount  of  his  inspiration  was  dried  up.  The  first 
pages  ran  on  happily  enough;  the  more  recent  limped 
and  crawled.  "  I  won't  send  you  the  last  chapter,"  he 
wrote  to  his  sister.  "  It  reads  like  a  moral  poem  by 
Dr.  Watts.  Picture  to  yourself  The  Busy  Bee,  shorn 
of  its  pleasing  jingle  of  rhyme,  and  you  have  formed  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  literary  value  of  my  work." 

Honor  wrote  by  return  to  remind  him  once  more  that 
the  bread  was  given,  and  the  water  sure;  but  this  was 
small  consolation.  As  a  boy  he  had  resolved  to  do  a 
man's  work  in  the  world,  and  yet  to  be  unlike  other  men : 
now  that  his  physical  health  had  received  a  shake,  his 
great  ambition  was  to  be  like  other  men — to  earn  a  man's 
wage. 

And  herein,  perhaps,  lies  a  paradox,  for  I  do  not  mean 
to  imply  that  his  early  ideal  was  dimmed. 

Am  I  fighting  shy  of  the  cause  of  all  this  depression  ? 
Perhaps  so ;  for  I  cannot  quite  lose  sight  of  Wilhelmina, 
as  she  sits,  all  unconscious  of  the  rain,  in  the  lonely 
house  on  the  other  side  of  the  firth,  stitching  a  heartful 
of  loving  dreams  into  that  poor  little  trousseau  of  hers. 
But  Harley  was  making  a  gallant  fight,  and  man  can 
do  no  more. 

Windyhaugh  was  not  far  from  The  Pines  as  the  crow 
flies,  but  Brentwood  knew  enough  now  of  the  river's 
moods  to  refrain  in  this  stormy  weather  from  crossing 
the  estuary  in  an  open  boat.  He  was  obliged  to  go  a 
long  way  round  when  he  visited  Wilhelmina,  and  as  both 
houses  stood  at  some  distance  from  a  railway  station,  it 
was  all  he  could  do  to  lunch  with  her,  and  return  before 
nightfall.  So  his  visits  were  rare,  and  she  valued  them 


AT  THE  PINES.  263 

accordingly.  They  constituted  the  brightest  hours  of 
her  joyous  life,  and,  strangely  enough,  they  were  also 
the  least  dreary  part  of  his  gloomy  existence.  Her  sunny 
presence  cheered  him  at  the  time,  but  the  depression  al- 
ways settled  down  again  as  soon  as  he  started  on  the 
homeward  journey.  Wilhelmina  was  sweet,  loving,  pre- 
venante,  but  in  his  warmest  moments  he  did  not  in  the 
least  want  to  marry  her.  He  did  not  want  to  marry  any 
woman  for  long  years  to  come.  All  he  asked  was  to 
settle  down  again  to  his  restful  solitude  a  deux  with 
Honor. 

He  did  not  again  take  his  sister  into  his  confidence. 
Indeed  he  was  half  ashamed  of  having  done  so  once,  and, 
in  his  letters  he  carefully  avoided  any  reference  to  his 
sleepless  nights,  and  weary  anxious  days.  Honor  read 
between  the  lines  that  he  was  not  very  happy,  but  she  had 
not  the  smallest  idea  of  the  extent  of  his  suffering. 

About  the  middle  of  September  an  Indian  summer  set 
in.  Harley  had  attributed  much  of  his  depression  to  the 
weather,  and  he  was  startled  to  find  that  the  sunshine 
made  no  difference.  On  the  day  of  his  last  visit  to  Win- 
dyhaugh  before  the  wedding,  the  glare  positively  an- 
noyed him,  and  he  almost  wished  the  clouds  would  re- 
turn. As  usual  on  the  homeward  journey,  he  bought  an 
evening  paper  to  while  away  the  time.  He  opened  it 
idly,  and  instantly  his  eye  fell  on  a  paragraph  headed, 
"  DROWNED  ON  HIS  WEDDING  DAY."  Brentwood  shivered. 
He  felt  certain  before  he  read  the  paragraph  that  the 
catastrophe  was  not  an  accident,  and  he  was  right.  The 
bridegroom  had  taken  a  house,  invited  the  guests,  made 
all  preparations,  and  then  at  the  eleventh  hour,  had  gone 
and  drowned  himself.  The  newspaper  related  the  facts 
in  the  baldest  way,  without  comment,  without  reference 
to  the  man's  motives,  or  to  the  feelings  of  the  bride ;  but 
Brentwood  needed  no  one  to  fill  in  the  details.  He  un- 
derstood it  all. 

Presently  he  shivered  again.  He  was  not  in  the  re- 
motest degree  tempted  to  follow  the  wretched  man's  ex- 
ample, his  grip  of  life  was  as  firm  as  ever,  but  it  struck 
him  as  singularly  ominous  that  he  should  have  seen  that 
paragraph  just  then. 


264:  WINDYHAUGH. 

As  the  raindrops  had  taken  up  the  echo  of  Poe's  lines, 
so  now  the  booming  of  the  train  droned  on  through 
the  gruesome  words — "  Drowned  on  his  wedding  day. 
Drowned  on  his  wedding  day." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE   LIGHT  THAT   FAILED. 

THE  quiet  little  wedding  was  over. 

Apart  from  the  splendour  of  the  weather  it  had  been 
a  rather  dreary  affair.  Owing  to  a  sudden  relapse  on 
the  part  of  her  patient,  Miss  Brentwood  had  not  been 
able  to  come.  The  bridegroom  was  looking  ill,  Mr.  Car- 
michael  was  gloomy  and  unlike  himself;  and,  for  the 
first  time  since  his  boyhood,  Ann  had  heard  her  master's 
voice  break  into  a  queer  discordant  sob  when  he  least 
intended  it.  Ann  could  have  found  it  in  her  heart  to 
burst  into  tears  herself,  when  she  saw  her  bairn  looking 
like  an  angel  in  her  white  robes,  but,  for  very  decency's 
sake,  some  one  must  put  a  bright  face  on  things.  So  the 
poor  woman  smiled  spasmodically  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  and  threw  half-a-dozen  old  shoes  after  the  re- 
treating carriage. 

The  day  had  become  intensely  warm  about  noon,  and 
Brentwood's  head  ached  acutely.  Wilhelmina  had  little 
experience  in  headaches,  and  her  timid  overtures,  her 
efforts  to  cheer  him,  only  made  matters  worse.  He 
longed  to  tell  her  to  leave  him  alone,  but  the  conscious- 
ness that  the  spirit  was  wanting  made  him  cling  the 
more  closely  to  the  form.  His  heart  was  full  of  the  pity 
that  is  farthest  removed  from  love.  He  would  not  run 
the  smallest  risk  of  hurting  her  feelings.  So  he  smiled 
and  endured  till  the  pain  became  almost  intolerable. 

In  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  in  spite  of  the  dazzling  sun- 
shine, Wilhelmina  began  to  feel  that  raw  easterly  haar 
stealing  up — more  definitely,  more  persistently,  than  ever 
before.  Surely  it  was  not  only  a  headache  that  made 


THE  LIGHT  THAT  FAILED.  265 

him  like  this!  A  vague  sense  of  terror  took  possession 
of  her,  and  she  began  to  lose  her  nerve.  She  asked  no 
questions,  but  her  manner  was  full  of  appeal;  her  very 
act  and  look  seemed  to  say — "  My  lord,  you  once  did 
love  me ! "  How  could  she  know  that  this  was  not  the 
way  to  win  her  husband's  heart? 

By  degrees  Harley  began  to  see,  what  he  had  felt  all 
along,  that  her  dress  was  singularly  unfortunate.  The 
steel  trimmings  flashed  and  burned  in  the  sun,  the  flow- 
ers were  tawdry,  the  whole  effect  cheap  and  common- 
place. And  this  was  his  wife.  This  was  her  deliberate 
self.  Glamour — glamour  and  chance  had  painted  the 
seductive  creature  on  the  terrace  at  sundown  with  her 
pale  pink  draperies  and  the  roses  on  her  breast. 

"  I  had  another  lovely  letter  from — from  your  sister 
this  morning,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Do  you  care  to 
see  it?" 

He  took  it  with  evident  interest,  and  spent  a  long 
time  in  the  perusal  of  its  few  pages.  While  he  read, 
black  clouds  surged  up  in  the  west,  and  an  ominous  roll 
of  thunder  was  heard  above  the  rattle  of  the  train. 

"  That  accounts  for  my  headache,"  he  said  with  a 
pitiful  attempt  at  cheerfulness. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  storm  was  raging  in  earnest. 
Flash  followed  flash  in  constant  succession ;  the  thunder 
kept  up  an  almost  continuous  roar.  Great  thongs  of 
rain  lashed  the  window-panes,  and  the  air  grew  suddenly 
cold.  Wilhelmina  begged  Harley  to  put  on  his  over- 
coat, and,  although  the  movement  irked  him,  he  let  her 
have  her  way.  One  effort  of  endurance  more  or  less 
mattered  little  now. 

The  platform  was  almost  flooded,  but  the  station- 
master  came  forward  gaily,  and  saw  them  into  the 
hired  barouche  with  a  word  of  congratulation  and  a 
feeble  jest  that  he  deemed  appropriate  to  the  situation. 
"  I  think  it  is  over  now,"  he  said,  "  but  we  haven't  had 
a  storm  like  this  for  years." 

And  so  they  started  on  the  long  silent  drive  to  The 
Pines. 

The  quiet  little  house  was  full  of  welcome  and  com- 
fort, and  a  bright-faced  maid  stood  in  the  doorway  to 


266  WINDYHAUGH. 

receive  them.  She  was  startled  to  see  how  ill  her  master 
looked. 

"  There  is  a  letter  for  you  on  the  sideboard,  sir,"  she 
said. 

Brentwood  took  Wilhelmina  into  the  pleasant  lamp- 
lit  dining-room,  where  the  table  was  laid,  and  opened 
the  letter.  "  With  your  permission,  dear,"  he  said ;  and 
he  read — 

"MY  DEAR  HAL:  I  don't  think  I  ever  felt  so  apolo- 
getic in  my  life  as  I  do  just  now.  The  Pines  have  taken 
me  prisoner  till  to-morrow,  and  there  is  no  escape. 

"  It  always  was  in  my  mind  to  come  to  your  wedding 
if  I  possibly  could,  but  for  several  days  things  have  been 
so  serious  that  Dr.  Smith  was  afraid  he  would  have  to 
wire  for  a  surgeon.  Yesterday,  however,  there  was  a 
slight  improvement,  and  to-day  he  encouraged  me  to 
come.  I  knew  I  could  only  manage  it  if  the  steamer 
was  in  a  happy  frame  of  mind,  and  trains  were  favour- 
able; but  I  missed  my  connection  at  Glasgow,  and  the 
chance  was  gone. 

"  I  did  not  want  to  go  back  absolutely  empty-handed, 
so — as  trains  just  happened  to  suit — I  hurried  on  here 
to  see  that  everything  was  in  readiness  for  you  and  your 
bride.  Major  Burnley  gave  me  a  lift  in  his  dog-cart 
from  the  station,  and  I  ordered  a  trap  at  the  inn  to  take 
me  back ;  but — owing,  I  suppose,  to  the  storm — it  has  not 
come,  and  here  I  am  fairly  entrapped.  I  might  go  in 
your  carriage,  but  that  would  mean  sleeping  in  a  strange 
hotel,  and  I  suppose  you  would  not  approve. 

"  Of  course  I  need  not  have  told  you  I  was  in  the 
house,  but  you  might  be  vexed  if  I  didn't.  I  need  not 
say  how  grieved  I  should  be  if  you  felt  bound  to  see  me. 
Of  course  you  won't  tell  your  wife  I  am  here. 

"  All  good  be  with  you !  HONOR." 

Brentwood  ignored  the  request  contained  in  the  let- 
ter. He  glanced  over  it  a  second  time,  and  then  handed 
it  to  Wilhelmina. 

"  I  am  so  glad !  "  she  said.  "  I  have  so  wanted  to 
meet  your  sister." 


THE  LIGHT  THAT  FAILED.  267 

"Come  up,  then,  and  get  your  things  off.  I  will 
bring  her  to  you." 

A  few  minutes  later  Honor  knocked  at  Wilhelmina's 
door  and  the  two  women  met  for  the  first  time.  Honor 
was  very  pale.  Her  thick  white  woollen  gown  fell  in 
heavy  folds  to  the  floor ;  her  dark  hair  was  coiled  round 
and  round  the  back  of  her  head.  Her  personality  would 
have  appealed  to  almost  anyone  that  night.  It  made  its 
way  straight  as  a  die  to  Wilhelmina's  susceptible  heart. 
A  thousand  old  dreams  of  noble  womanhood  seemed 
sprung  into  life.  Here  in  actual  human  form  was 
the  ideal  she  had  scarcely  ventured  to  picture — the  ideal 
she  herself,  with  her  storm-tost  emotional  nature,  could 
never  hope  to  realize. 

Honor's  first  glimpse  was  of  a  drooping  travel-worn 
figure  in  an  ill-cut  tasteless  gown:  her  second  was  of  a 
pitiful  human  soul  that  looked  at  her  eye  to  eye.  As- 
suredly this  was  not  the  wife  she  had  pictured  for  her 
brother:  still  less  was  it  the  alluring  "  little  devote  "  she 
had  seen  in  her  mind's  eye.  Was  it  possible  that  even 
from  the  bride's  point  of  view  the  marriage  was  a  great 
mistake  ? 

The  fear  made  Honor's  manner  very  gracious,  al- 
most motherly.  She  removed  Wilhelmina's  hat  with 
her  own  hands,  and  drew  her  down  on  the  sofa  by  her 
side. 

In  other  circumstances  the  young  girl  would  have 
blushed  for  her  tear-stained  face,  her  disordered  hair, 
for  the  dress  that  formed  so  pathetic  a  foil  to  Honor's 
simple  draperies;  but  one  has  no  such  feelings  as  that 
with  one's  guardian  angel. 

"You  must  be  quite  worn  out,"  Honor  said  kindly. 
*'  The  storm  was  terrible,  and  my  brother's  headache 
must  have  been  just  the  last  straw.  Of  course  I  have 
been  used  to  these  headaches  for  years.  They  quite 
prostrate  him.  The  only  thing  to  do  is  to  leave  him 
alone  till  it  is  over.  He  never  has  a  word  to  say  while 
it  lasts." 

Wilhelmina  looked  uneasy.  "I  am  afraid  I  must 
have  worried  him,"  she  said.  "He  does  not  look  fit  to 
be  going  about.  Do  persuade  him  to  go  to  bed  at  once. 
18 


268  WINDYHAUGH. 

Perhaps  he  will  be  all  right  in  the  morning.  Do  you 
think  it  is  just  one  of  his  ordinary  headaches  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  quite  hope  so.  I  have  seen  him  look  nearly 
as  ill  as  this  before.  He  is  greatly  disgusted  with  him- 
self for  annoying  you." 

"Me?  Oh,  how  absurd !  As  if  that  mattered !  And 
indeed  I  am  quite  happy  now  that  you  are  here." 

The  pathos  of  this  went  to  Honor's  heart,  and  she 
was  kinder  even  than  she  had  hoped  or  intended  to  be. 

"  When  your  aunt  is  better  you  will  come  back  here, 
won't  you  ? "  said  Wilhelmina  at  last. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  dear.  My  heart  is  heavy 
about  leaving  her  to-night,  but  there  is  no  use  fretting 
over  things  one  can't  help.  I  sent  a  telegram  by  your 
driver,  and  I  shall  get  a  reply  early  to-morrow.  She 
won't  be  able  to  do  without  me  for  some  time  to  come. 
When  she  can  " — Honor  smiled — "  there  is  a  lot  of  work 
in  the  world  waiting  to  be  done,  is  there  not?  I  have 
been  very  happy  here  with  my  brother,  but,  when  I  hear 
of  all  that  women  are  doing,  I  feel  like  the  old  war  horse 
in  the  London  cab  when  he  hears  the  battle  music." 

This  was  partly  said,  of  course,  to  convince  Wilhel- 
mina that  Harley's  sister  was  not  jealous;  but  it  im- 
pressed the  listener  profoundly.  This  was  the  first  she 
had  heard  on  a  subject — of  which  some  of  us  have  heard 
enough. 

Honor  poured  the  warm  water  into  a  basin.  "  I  will 
leave  you  now,"  she  said.  "  Come  down  as  soon  as  you 
can ;  dinner  will  be  ready  directly." 

A  bright  fire  burned  on  the  dining-room  hearth,  and 
the  tete-a-tete  meal  was  very  cheering,  but  Wilhelmina 
was  disappointed  to  find  that  the  depression  and  anxiety 
returned  when  she  went  to  her  room.  "  There  is  no  use 
in  thinking  about  it  now,"  she  said  to  herself  wearily. 
"  When  he  is  better,  and  I  see  him  again,  I  shall 
know" 

It  was  not  easy  to  banish  the  subject,  however,  and, 
mindful  of  the  maxim  of  some  old  divine  that  "  if  you 
fill  a  sack  full  of  beans  you  can  defy  Satan  to  fill  it  full  of 
peas,"  she  resolved  to  think  only  of  Honor,  to  forget  all 


THE  LIGHT  THAT  FAILED.  269 

else  in  the  memory  of  her  new  sister's  grace  and  kindness 
and  beauty.  She  bethought  herself  that  she  would  like 
to  read  Honor's  letters  again  in  the  light  shed  on  them 
by  a  glimpse  of  the  writer's  personality.  The  first  letter 
was  in  her  writing-case ;  the  second  she  had  seen  Harley 
put  absent-mindedly  into  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat 
when  the  storm  came  on.  A  moment  later  Wilhelmina's 
eye  fell  on  the  coat  in  question ;  her  husband  had  thrown 
it  down  when  he  went  in  search  of  his  sister.  Without 
stopping  to  think,  she  plunged  her  hand  into  the  breast 
pocket.  Ah,  yes,  here  was  the  dear  letter!  There  was 
no  mistaking  the  feel  of  Miss  Brentwood's  fine  thick 
writing-paper. 

Returning  to  the  fireside,  she  sat  down  to  read  in 
comfort. 

The  letter  was  in  Honor's  handwriting,  but,  instead 
of  "  My  dear  Wilhelmina,"  she  read  "  My  dear  Hal." 

With  a  scarlet  blush  Wilhelmina  folded  it  up,  but,  as 
she  did  so,  her  eye  fell  on  the  words,  "  You  married 
your  little  devote"  Involuntarily  she  glanced  at  the 
date.  It  was  written  three  days  after  that  night.  It 
must  be,  yes,  it  must  be,  a  letter  of  congratulation.  If 
she  read  this  letter,  her  doubts  would  be  at  rest  for 
ever.  She  would  know  how  Honor  and  Harley  really 
felt. 

A  few  weeks  before,  so  sordid  a  temptation  could 
not  have  found  an  inch  of  foothold  in  her  mind,  but 
her  love  for  Harley  had  dwarfed  all  the  rest  of  her  in- 
ward life,  and  in  the  warped  mood  of  the  moment  she 
felt  that  if  he  had  ceased  to  care  for  her,  it  was  no  use 
to  be  good,  no  use  to  be  honourable.  Her  ideals  were 
lost  in  the  mists  of  her  depression :  she  even  forgot  how 
that  relentless  conscience  of  hers  would  exact  a  ransom 
of  pain — ay,  and  of  confession — for  every  divergence 
from  its  teaching. 

The  first  sentence  threw  no  light  on  her  difficulty,  but 
the  reading  of  it  made  her  feel  that  the  sin  was  com- 
mitted now,  that  she  might  as  well  go  on  to  the  end. 
She  tried  to  pray,  and  yet  she  was  unwilling  to  pray, 
for  she  wanted  to  read  that  letter!  She  was  struggling 
still  when  she  suddenly  stumbled  on  the  signature. 


270  WINDYHAUGH. 

The  reader  knows  what  she  read — 

"  MY  DEAR  HAL  :  I  must  begin  by  telling  you  that 
my  first  feeling  on  reading  your  letter  was  one  of  pro- 
found thankfulness  that  you  should  have  written  to  me 
just  like  that.  '  You  being  what  you  are,'  it  is  a  letter 
of  which  a  sister  may  well  be  proud;  but  we  have  not 
been  an  ordinary  brother  and  sister,  have  we,  Hal? 

"  Well,  dear,  of  course  I  was  surprised,  and,  of  course 
— in  a  way,  as  you  say,  I  don't  understand  it;  but  if  a 
good  man's  nature  takes  him  by  surprise — I  dislike  your 
word,  emotions — if  a  good  man's  nature  is  his  destiny, 
I  must  cling  to  the  belief  that  in  spite  of  appearances 
the  destiny  is  a  good,  or  at  least  a  fine  one.  At  worst 
I  would  rather  you  became  engaged  like  this  than  that 
you  set  out  in  cold  blood,  as  some  men  do,  to  look  for  a 
suitable  wife. 

"  I  say  '  in  spite  of  appearances,'  because  of  course, 
for  love  of  my  sex  as  well  as  for  love  of  Hal,  I  should 
have  wished  you  to  marry  a  woman  to  whom  you  would 
look  up  as  much  as  she  looked  up  to  you.  But  your 
'  little  devote  '  is  young:  she  may  develop. 

"  Am  I  a  brute,  Hal — a  cold-hearted  brute,  to  write 
as  I  do?  Some  women,  perhaps,  would  urge  you  to 
break  this  thing  off,  to  treat  it  as  a  mere  entanglement. 
I  confess  for  one  moment  I  did  think  of  that;  but 
of  course  you  would  not  listen  to  me  if  I  proposed  it. 
I  gather  that  circumstances  were  hard  upon  you,  but 
after  all  you  were  a  free  moral  agent;  and  if  you  drew 
from  the  lips  of  an  innocent  girl  the  confession  that  she 
loved  you — you  have  to  all  intents  and  purposes  mar- 
ried her. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  passage  we  liked  so  much  in 
John  Inglesant  ? — i  It  may  be  that  in  some  other  place 
God  would  have  found  for  you  other  work;  you  have 
failed  in  attaining  that  place ;  serve  Him  where  you  are. 
If  you  fall  still  lower,  or  imagine  you  fall  lower,  still 
serve  Him  in  the  lowest  room  of  all.'  What  more  can 
you  want,  Hal,  dear?  There  are  your  marching  orders. 
We  may  live  to  bless  the  day  when  your  nature  took 
you  by  surprise,  and  your  married  the  little  devote. 
"Yours  as  always,  HONOR." 


THE  LIGHT  THAT  FAILED.  271 

Wilhelmina  bent  low  over  the  fire,  shivering  with 
cold.      She   was   not    dazed,    nor   confused ;    her   mind ' 
seemed  preternaturally  clear,  and  thoughts  and  mem- 
ories marched  through  in  battalions. 

First — strangely  enough — came  the  long-forgotten 
recollection  of  a  library  book  she  had  read  in  her  Bays- 
water  days.  It  told  of  a  man  who  was  strongly  moved 
by  a  passing  fancy — of  a  woman  who  gave  herself  for 
less  than  the  asking.  Why  had  she  never  thought  of 
that  woman  in  connection  with  herself?  Why  had  no 
one  ever  told  her  that — even  when  she  loves — a  woman 
must  hold  herself  so  dear,  so  dear,  if  a  man  is  to  value 
her  enough  for  his  own  soul's  good?  She  remembered 
how  she  had  despised  the  girls  at  school  who  held  them- 
selves cheap.  Why  did  the  whole  case  seem  so  different 
when  she  was  concerned? 

She  remembered  how  she  had  liked  Harley  from  the 
first  time  she  saw  him — how  she  had  loved  him  when  he 
taught  her  to  row — how  she  had  never  concealed  her  feel- 
ings for  a  moment.  She  remembered  how  she  had  al- 
lowed him  to  take  the  clover  from  her  hair — to  draw  her 
out  on  the  terrace  at  sundown.  She  remembered  the 
roses  on  her  breast. 

Then  with  relentless  accuracy  memory  recalled  her 
father's  words — "  There  are  good  and  gracious  and  high- 
minded  women  whose  very  existence  is  a  strength  and 
an  inspiration  to  the  men  who  rule  the  world.  Place 
you  with  such  men,  and  what  would  they  see  in  you? 
A  little  school-girl,  ignorant,  awkward,  gauche."  Why 
had  she  allowed  subsequent  events  to  banish  the  effect 
of  those  words?  How  true  they  were,  how  true!  She 
saw  it  all  now.  Honor  must  be  one  of  the  women  to 
whom  her  father  referred:  from  Wilhelmina's  point  of 
view  there  was  no  serious  difference  between  Harley 
Brentwood  and  the  "  men  who  rule  the  world " :  and 
she,  gauche  little  Wilhelmina,  was  his  wife! 

With  a  groan  she  stretched  herself  on  the  rug  before 
the  fire,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Next  came  the  recollection  of  the  vague  suspicions 
that  had  crossed  her  mind  after  her  engagement.  Of 
course  they  seemed  to  her  now  far  more  definite  than 


272  WINDYHAUGH. 

they  had  really  been  at  the  time,  and  she  tingled  with 
shame  as  she  thought  of  the  little  thrill  of  pride  with 
which  she  had  reflected  that,  of  all  her  schoolfellows,  she 
"was  the  first." 

Suddenly  Miss  Evelyn's  words  recurred  to  her  with 
new  force  and  meaning — "  If  Brentwood  was  a  god,  it 
would  be  safe  enough,  but  men  are  not  built  to  stand 
this  sort  of  thing."  "  She  was  right,"  said  Wilhelmina : 
"  I  put  him  in  the  place  of  God ;  and  now — oh,  it  will 
be  so  long  before  I  can  find  my  own  God  again !  " 

With  the  memory  of  Miss  Evelyn  came  the  vision  of 
Pauline,  of  Melnotte.  How  happy  she  had  been  that 
day!  Was  it  really  she,  was  it  Wilhelmina  Galbraith, 
who  had  been  so  happy? 

Then  at  last  came  a  rush  of  relief.  What  Melnotte 
had  done  for  Pauline,  surely  she  could  do  for  Harley. 
She  could  leave  him  free! 


CHAPTEK  XLI. 

THE   LIGHT   THAT   ENDURED. 

THE  housemaid  was  washing  the  doorstep  when  Wil- 
helmina came  down  next  morning,  dressed  apparently 
for  a  stroll  in  the  pine  wood. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  morning,"  she  said  timidly. 

"  It  is  that,  ma'am,  but  I  doubt  ye'll  find  it  very  wet 
yet."  The  girl  moved  her  pail  aside  to  let  her  new 
mistress  pass,  and — laying  a  letter  on  the  hall  table  as 
she  went — Wilhelmina  stepped  out  into  the  sweet  fresh 
air. 

An  hour  later  Honor  came  down.  She  was  anxious 
to  see  how  her  brother  was,  and  then  to  return  to  Rothe- 
say  with  the  least  possible  delay. 

"  Mrs.  Brentwood  has  gone  for  a  walk,"  said  the 
housemaid  cheerfully. 

Honor  nodded,  and  picked  up  a  letter  that  lay  on  the 
table.  She  did  not  at  first  recognize  the  unformed  hand- 


THE  LIGHT  THAT  ENDURED. 


writing,  but  a  moment  later  she  stepped  quickly  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  closed  the  door. 

Wilhelmina  had  hesitated  long  before  deciding  how 
to  address  her  correspondent,  but  this  was  the  letter  that 
Honor  finally  read  — 

"  DEAR  LADY  :  The  letter  you  wrote  to  your  brother 
has  come  into  my  hands,  and  I  have  read  it.  Of  course 
I  know  that  I  have  done  a  shameful  thing,  and  I  cannot 
ask  you  to  care  whether  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  doing 
such  things.  All  that  matters  is  that  I  have  read  it. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  be  sorry  some  time  for  being  so 
dishonourable.  Just  now  I  only  say,  Why,  why,  did  I 
not  see  that  letter  twenty-four  hours  before?  If  I  had 
met  you  —  if  I  had  just  seen  you  as  I  saw  you  when  you 
came  into  my  room  last  night  —  I  think  I  should  have 
known  that  I  never  could  be  a  wife  to  your  brother. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  all  night,  and  there  seems  to  be 
no  right  thing  to  do  now.  It  is  my  own  fault.  If  I  had 
been  true  to  the  light  that  was  in  me  I  never  should 
have  been  swept  off  my  feet  by  an  earthly  love. 

"  Of  course  I  must  go  away.  Dear  lady,  you  will  see 
that  I  must  go  away.  Humiliation  I  have  earned,  but 
not  the  humiliation  of  meeting  Mr.  Brentwood  again. 
I  know  it  is  an  awful  thing  to  be  a  wife  who  leaves  her 
husband;  yesterday  morning  I  should  as  soon  have  ex- 
pected to  be  a  murdered,  but  if  I  go  at  once,  Mr.  Brent- 
wood  will  have  no  difficulty  in  getting  his  divorce.*  It 
makes  my  heart  sick  to  think  that  I  am  bringing  trouble 
and  talk  upon  you  and  him.  I  would  have  wished  to 
bring  you  only  good  ! 

"  Of  course  I  know  Mr.  Brentwood  will  be  sorry  for 
me;  I  know  I  cannot  hide  myself  so  that  he  would  fail 
to  find  me  if  he  wished;  but  he  will  be  merciful  and 
leave  me  alone.  It  would  be  terrible  for  both  of  us  to 
meet.  He  might  try  to  persuade  me  to  come  back;  but 
that  is  surely  the  one  thing  that  even  God  could  not 
ask  of  me. 

"  Tell  him  your  letter  was  just  and  true.     It  only 

*  A  pathetic  reminiscence  of  The  Lady  of  Lyons  here  ! 


274  WINDYHAUGH. 

opened  my  eyes  to  what  I  must  soon  have  seen  for  my- 
self. Tell  him  I  shall  come  to  no  harm.  I  have  money 
enough  to  live  upon,  and  I  know  sufficient  of  the  evil  of 
the  world  to  keep  out  of  its  way.  My  old  friend  and 
servant,  Ann,  will  come  to  me  if  she  hears  I  want  her. 

"  Don't  think  I  am  heartbroken,  or  in  despair,  or  any 
of  those  things.  Tell  Mr.  Brentwood  I  will  pick  up  the 
pieces  of  my  life  and  carry  them  back  to  God.  I  say 
this  because  then  he  will  understand  that  no  harm  can 
come  to  me. 

"  If  I  had  met  you  sooner — if  I  had  met  you  differ- 
ently— how  much  you  would  have  taught  me !  As  it  is — 
by  and  bye  perhaps  you  will  forgive  me. 

"  WILHELMINA    GALBRAITH." 

Honor  allowed  her  brother  to  eat  his  frugal  breakfast 
in  peace  before  she  gave  him  the  letter.  He  was  still 
looking  haggard  and  hollow-eyed,  though  he  declared 
himself  quite  well. 

His  face  turned  very  grey,  but  he  read  to  the  end 
before  he  realized  how  much  it  meant.  Here  was  a 
contretemps  indeed;  but  nothing  surely  that  a  few  ca- 
resses would  not  set  right.  His  mind  could  make  no 
room  for  the  idea  that  Wilhelmina  would  cause  him 
anxiety  of  this  kind.  It  was  the  signature  that  roused 
all  the  hunter  in  him. 

"Good  God!"  he  cried,  springing  up  in  bed,  "you 
don't  mean  to  say  she  is  gone !  " 

"  Yes." 

"When  did  you  get  this?" 

"  Half  an  hour  ago.  Wilhelmina  had  gone  an  hour 
before  that." 

"  And  what  have  you  done  ?  " 

"Nothing.  I  did  not  wish  to  make  an  esclandre 
without  consulting  you." 

He  bit  his  lip,  struggling  to  keep  himself  in  hand. 

"  But  why  in  Heaven's  name,"  he  said  with  laborious 
calmness,  "didn't  you  bring  the  letter  straight  to  me? 
Do  you  in  the  least  realize  how  difficult  it  will  be  to 
find  her  now  ?  " 

Honor  nodded.     "Are  you  sure  that  it  is  desirable 


THE  LIGHT  THAT  ENDURED.  275 

to  find  her?  You  notice  she  suggests  the  novel  idea  of 
looking  at  the  whole  question  from  the  standpoint  of 
eternity." 

"  Desirable  to  find  her !  Great  Powers,  Honor,  she 
can't  leave  me  like  that!  She's  mine.  She  is  my  wife! 
I  will  move  heaven  and  earth  to  find  her !  "  He  drew 
his  hand  across  his  aching  brow  in  utter  bewilderment. 
"  I  can't  even  imagine  what  you  are  dreaming  of.  It  is 
not  like  you  to  make  such  an  infernal  muddle  of  things. 
You  have  wasted  two  precious  hours " 

Honor  rose  to  her  full  height. 

"You  forget,  Harley,"  she  said  quietly,  "that  Wil- 
helmina  wrote  to  me.  If  she  had  written  to  you,  the 
responsibility  would  be  yours.  Try  to  realize  that  I 
don't  wish  you  to  find  her.  I  mean  her  to  have  her 
chance.  She  has  put  me  to  shame.  My  impression  is 
that  your  Wilhelmina  will  be  great." 


PART  III. 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

PICKING   UP   THE    PIECES. 

IN  a  quiet  corner  of  the  church  Wilhelmina  knelt  un- 
observed. 

I  am  afraid  she  was  crying — for  the  music  and  pag- 
eantry, the  massive  columns  and  the  white-robed  fig- 
ures, appealed  to  her  profoundly  after  the  severe  sim- 
plicity of  the  kirk  at  Queensmains.  The  preacher,  too, 
had  that  gift  of  sympathetic  utterance — which  may 
mean  so  much  or  so  little! — and  many  of  the  congrega- 
tion were  conscious  of  a  magnetic  current  that  flowed 
from  his  personality  to  theirs. 

But,  although  Wilhelmina  was  deeply  moved,  she  felt 
as  if  she  were  looking  on  at  the  spiritual  life  through 
a  grating.  The  preacher's  manner  made  her  think  some- 
how of  the  loneliness,  the  humiliation,  the  trouble,  she 
was  struggling  to  keep  at  arm's-length,  and  she  felt  that 
she  had  not  sufficient  initiative  of  her  own  to  start  afresh 
on  the  uphill  course.  What  it  must  be  to  have  a  friend 
like  this  in  whom  to  confide,  from  whom  to  seek  advice ! 

A  printed  paper  before  her  gave  the  clergyman's  name 
and  address ;  and,  as  she  read  it,  a  sudden  longing  seized 
her  to  seek  his  spiritual  guidance.  Other  people  had 
found  comfort  in  this  way.  Why  should  not  she  ?  Why 
should  she  not  let  herself  go  for  once?  Was  it  not  a 
clergyman's  business  to  be  the  friend  of  the  friendless? 
Her  heart  leapt  almost  painfully  at  the  daring  thought, 
but  she  resolved  to  see  him  nevertheless.  "  To-morrow 
evening,"  she  said,  "  to-morrow  evening,  I  will  go." 
276 


PICKING  UP  THE  PIECES.  277 

All  through  the  next  day  she  revelled  in  the  luxury 
of  that  prospective  interview.  She  did  not  mean  to  tell 
the  clergyman  much  about  her  life,  yet  in  imagination 
she  told  him  a  great  deal,  and  in  imagination  she  saw 
him  listening  with  grave,  pitying  kindness.  "  You  have 
brought  this  darkness  upon  yourself,"  she  fancied  she 
heard  him  say  with  the  fine  severity  that  so  often  proves 
more  inspiring  than  any  sympathy — the  severity  that  is 
ably  wielded  only  by  the  man  who  is  severe  with  him- 
self. "  Accept  it  as  the  chastisement  of  God.  Never 
complain,  never  stand  still,  so  long  as  you  can  see  one 
step  ahead. 

'  '  The  heights  by  great  men  reached  and  kept 

Were  not  attained  by  sudden  flight ; 

But  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 

Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night.'  " 

Her  courage  failed  her  when  she  actually  stood  in 
front  of  the  house,  but  she  pulled  herself  together  and 
knocked.  Then,  of  course,  the  reaction  set  in.  All  the 
protestant  spirit  of  old  Windyhaugh  rose  in  fierce  re- 
bellion against  this  extraordinary  weakness.  Why 
should  she  lean  on  an  arm  of  flesh?  After  all  she  had 
come  through,  did  she  need  a  man,  a  stranger,  to  mediate 
between  her  and  her  God  ?  Was  she  not  choosing  at  best 
a  lengthy  luxurious  way  round  instead  of  the  straight 
cut  up  the  hill? 

She  had  knocked,  however,  and  she  could  not  run 
away.  It  would  have  been  so  easy  to  say,  "  I  beg  your 
pardon.  I  have  made  a  mistake " ;  but  she  was  too 
young,  too  honest,  to  think  of  that.  She  was  speechless 
with  confusion,  when  an  elderly  woman  opened  the  door. 

"  Did  you  call  to  see  Mr.  Ellis? " 

"  Ye-es." 

"  Was  it  about  the  nursery-governess'  situation  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Like  the  hero  of  ro- 
mantic adventure,  Wilhelmina  seized  the  door  of  escape, 
regardless  of,  the  renewed  perils  that  might  lie  on  the 
other  side. 

"  Yes." 

A  minute  later  she  found  herself  in  a  comfortable 


278  WINDYHAUGH. 

lamp-lit  study.  "  Mr.  Ellis  is  just  finishing  dinner," 
said  the  maid.  "  He  will  be  here  directly."  With  that 
she  left  the  room,  shutting  the  door  behind  her. 

And  Wilhelmina  had  time  to  realize  what  she  had 
done. 

She  had  cherished  many  beautiful  dreams  of  "  work 
in  the  mission  field,"  but  that  was  all  in  the  rosy  light 
of  the  future.  When  she  actually  came  to  face  the  situ- 
ation, she  felt  as  unfit  Jor  the  office  of  nursery-governess 
as  for  that  of  Grand  Vizier.  "  I  knew  little  enough  at 
school,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  and  I  have  forgotten  most 
of  that.  I  don't  believe  I  can  remember  the  dates  of 
the  Kings  of  England— William  I.  1066,  William  II. 
1087— 

But  what  between  the  vast  number  of  the  dates  she 
had  learned,  and  the  feverish  anxiety  of  the  moment, 
her  fine  memory  was  baffled,  and  she  stuck  fast  some- 
where in  the  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster. 

When  she  realized  that  she  simply  could  not  go  on, 
she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  looked  about  for  some  means 
of  escape;  but  at  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  the 
clergyman  came  in. 

"  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  disturbing  you,"  she 
said  in  a  trembling  voice.  "  I  have  been  thinking  it  over, 
and  I  see  I  am  not  fit  to  be  a  governess." 

He  adjusted  the  lamp,  letting  the  light  fall  full  on 
her  face — so  young,  so  honest,  so  sensitive,  with  the 
new  wistful  look  in  the  eyes. 

Then  he  smiled. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said  kindly,  "  and  tell  me  about  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  nothing  to  tell,"  she  faltered. 
"  I  had  no  right  to  think  of  it.  I  know  so  little." 

11  We  none  of  us  know  very  much,  do  we  ? " 

This  was  a  platitude  with  which  she  was  familiar. 

"  Oh,  but  it  is  not  in  that  sense  I  am  ignorant." 

Now  that  she  was  regaining  her  self-possession,  her 
voice  struck  him  as  singularly  pleasant — the  voice  of  a 
girl  who  comes  of  cultured  people. 

"  Don't  distress  yourself  about  your  ignorance,"  he 
said,  "  and,  above  all,  don't  try  to  hide  it.  Let  me  be 
the  judge." 


PICKING  UP  THE  PIECES.  279 

His  words  were  quite  articulate  to  her  moral  sense, 
and  she  looked  up  with  eyes  full  of  simple  trust. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said. 

He  appreciated  the  reply.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
not  one  girl  in  a  hundred  would  have  said  "  Thank 
you"  just  like  that.  Had  he  really  chanced  upon  a 
pearl  ? 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"  Wilhelmina  Galbraith." 

"You  have  not  taught  before?" 

"  No." 

"  But  you  want  to  earn  a  little  money  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly Yes,  I  ought  to  earn  some  money." 

"  Then  you  want  to  do  a  bit  of  good  work  in  the 
world?" 

Her  eyes  kindled.     «  Oh,"  she  said,  "  if  I  were  fit!  " 

"  Are  your  parents  alive  ?  " 

"  My  mother  died  a  long  time  ago :  my  father  is 
abroad." 

"  And  where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  In  lodgings."     She  gave  the  address. 

"Not  alone?" 

Wilhelmina  smiled.  "  It  is  a  very  simple  thing  to 
live  in  lodgings,"  she  said.  "  I  used  to  keep  them  once 
long  ago  when  my  stepmother  was  ill." 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"  Eighteen." 

"  And  does  your  father  approve  of  your  living 
alone?" 

She  blushed  painfully.  "  He  doesn't  now.  He 
thought  he  had — had — provided  for  me.  I  am  afraid 
you  must  let  me  go.  You  are  very  kind,  but  I  can't  talk 
about  that." 

He  drew  down  his  brows  in  perplexity,  and  changed 
the  line  of  attack.  "  Are  you  a  Church  member  ?  " 

"  Yes — a  member  of  the  Church  of  Scotland." 

"Ah!" 

She  did  not  miss  the  inflection  of  his  voice.  "  But  I 
like  your  Church  quite  as  well,"  she  hastened  to  add. 
"  Better  in  fact." 

His  smile  was  very  genuine.     "  You  could  get  one  or 


280  WINDYHAUGH. 

two  recommendations,  I  suppose — one  from  your  clergy- 
man?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  heartily.  Then  her  brow  clouded. 
"  That  is— I  don't  know." 

His  manner  became  less  friendly.  "  You  are  full  of 
mysteries,  Miss  Galbraith." 

She  rose  to  her  feet.  "  I  know  I  am,"  she  said  des- 
perately. "  It  is  not  my  fault.  I  hate  mysteries.  You 
have  been  very  kind.  Forgive  me  for  troubling  you. 
Good-evening." 

"  Stop  a  moment."  He  was  authoritative  now.  "  Sit 
down,  please.  One  question  more  I  am  entitled  to  ask. 
What  made  you  come?" 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  Did  you  see  my  advertisement  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  resolutely.  "  I  suppose  I  am  bound 
to  answer  you  now.  I  heard  you  preach  last  night,  and 
I  thought  I  would  ask  you  to  help  me — in  the  Christian 
life,  I  mean.  After  I  had  knocked,  I  saw  quite  clearly 
that  what  I  want  is  not  more  light,  but  grit  enough  to 
live  up  to  the  light  I  have.  Neither  you  nor  anybody 
else  can  give  me  that.  So  when  the  maid  asked  me  if 
I  had  called  about  the  situation " 

He  strove  to  suppress  a  smile.  "  I  must  give  Mary  a 
hint  not  to  ask  leading  questions." 

"  Oh,  but  indeed  it  wasn't  her  fault.  It  was  because 
I  was  too — too  frightened  to  speak." 

"  We  begin  to  understand  each  other,  Miss  Galbraith. 
There  is  the  door.  You  are  at  liberty  either  to  go  and 
forget  all  about  this  little  episode,  or  to  apply  deliber- 
ately for  the  situation — about  which,  by  the  way,  you 
know  nothing." 

"  Then  I  apply  for  the  situation,"  she  said  immedi- 
ately. 

"  Notwithstanding  your  ignorance  ?  " 

"  You  were  to  be  the  judge  of  that." 

He  nodded  gravely  and  took  up  his  notebook. 

"  Your  minister's  name  and  address  ? "  he  said 
quietly.  "  You  see  of  course  that  I  must  write  to 
him." 

She  sighed.     "  I  see  that  I  have  no  right  to  object." 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED.  281 

Then,  as  she  gave  the  desired  information,  "  Would 
there  be  any  harm  in  my  writing  to  him  too  ? " 

He  smiled.  "  To  quote  your  own  words,  Miss  Gal- 
braith,  I  see  that  I  have  no  right  to  object.  When  I 
hear  from  Mr.  Carmichael,  I  will  ask  you  to  call  again." 

On  the  threshold  of  the  room  she  turned.  "  I  quite 
forgot,"  she  said  shyly.  "  I  have  a  good  French  ac- 
cent." 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

A   FRIEND   IN   NEED. 

WILHELMINA  knelt  by  the  fire,  making  toast. 

An  English  history  lay  in  the  old  arm-chair  by  her 
side.  A  conspicuously  new  slate  on  the  table  was  cov- 
ered with  sums.  The  comfortable  little  eyrie  hung  high 
above  the  noises  of  the  street. 

On  leaving  The  Pines,  Wilhelmina  had  walked  to  a 
different  railway  station  from  that  at  which  she  and  her 
husband  had  arrived  the  day  before,  and,  by  a  lucky 
chance,  she  had  reached  Edinburgh  just  in  time  for  the 
day  express  to  London.  She  gravitated  to  London  as 
naturally  as  the  apple  falls  to  the  ground.  In  Edin- 
burgh she  would  have  felt  lonely  and  timid ;  London,  in 
comparison,  was  like  home.  Her  father  and  her  hus- 
band would  have  been  amazed  had  they  known  how 
thoroughly  she  was  able  to  take  care  of  herself.  Indeed 
she  knew  so  exactly  what  to  do  that  she  was  scarcely 
conscious  of  making  plans.  Before  hailing  a  hansom, 
she  bought  a  handbag,  and  the  few  things  that  were  ab- 
solutely essential  for  the  night.  This  was  not  enough, 
she  knew,  to  '"give  her  an  air  of  respectability ;  she  re- 
membered well  how  she  and  her  stepmother  had  been 
wont  to  regard  the  young  woman  who  arrives  at  dusk 
without  luggage;  but  she  thought  she  could  carry  the 
situation  through.  A  less  experienced  person,  forced  to 
such  rigid  economy,  might  have  hunted  long  for  a  clean 
room  in  humble  streets.  Wilhelmina  avoided  that  mis- 


282  WINDYHAUGH. 

take.  She  drove  straight  to  a  respectable  house  in  Bays- 
water — no  other  indeed  than  the  lodging-house  kept  by 
that  Mrs.  Brown  who  had  "  none  of  the  little  etceteras 
that  count  for  so  much,"  but  who'"  did  the  cooking  her- 
self." Wilhelmina  knew  that  after  the  dining-room  and 
drawing-room  floors  in  these  houses  were  taken,  there 
often  remained  a  room  or  two  in  the  attics  which  the 
landlady  was  glad  to  let  for  a  small  sum  provided  the 
lodger  did  not  ask  for  much  attendance. 

With  her  simplest,  most  businesslike  manner  Wil- 
helmina stated  her  requirements.  "  My  luggage  has  not 
arrived  yet,"  she  said;  "but  I  shall  be  glad  to  pay  for 
a  room  in  advance." 

Her  face  was  recommendation  enough,  and  the  land- 
lady was  satisfied.  Wilhelmina  paid  the  cabman  his 
legal  fare,  and,  to  her  surprise,  he  thanked  her.  She 
had  not  yet  learned  that  in  the  matter  of  the  woman 
question,  the  London  cabman  has  always  been  in  ad- 
vance of  his  sex.  There  is  something  quite  beautiful  in 
his  genial  camaraderie  with  the  young  woman  who 
knocks  about  by  herself,  and  has  no  sixpences  to  spare. 

When  she  reached  her  little  room,  Wilhelmina's  first 
act  was  to  walk  to  the  window  and  look  out  at  the  house 
over  the  way.  "  I  am  thankful  I  am  not  delivered  over 
to  your  tender  mercies,"  she  said  contemptuously  to  her 
old  self.  "  The  only  wonder  is  that  you  got  any  lodg- 
ings at  all." 

Then  her  excitement  gave  way  to  a  reaction  of  over- 
whelming depression,  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

The  fire  was  a  great  glowing  mass,  and  Wilhelmina 
sighed  to  think  that  there  was  no  one  but  herself  to  eat 
such  beautiful  toast.  As  if  in  answer  to  her  thought, 
there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  A  gentleman  to  see  you,  miss,"  said  the  maid,  and 
a  moment  later  Mr.  Carmichael  was  ushered  in. 

Wilhelmina  relinquished  her  toasting-fork,  and 
blushed  till  she  could  blush  no  more. 

"  Tea  ?  "  he  said  with  that  ready  tact  of  his.  "  That 
is  a  friendly  sight.  I  am  so  tired." 

Somehow  that  fiery  blush  had  brought  the  tears  to 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED.  283 

her  eyes,  and  she  was  glad  to  wait  on  him  in  silence. 
He  chatted  on  for  some  time  without  looking  for  an  an- 
swer; but  as  soon  as  the  meal  was  over  he  made  her 
draw  up  her  chair  to  the  fire  in  the  gathering  dark. 

"And  now,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "about  that  testi- 
monial?" 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  she  said  in  an  awestruck 
voice,  "  that  you  have  come  up  to  London  about  that  ?  " 

"  Does  it  surprise  you  ?  Don't  you  think  I  was  only 
too  glad  to  know  where  to  come  ?  Do  you  so  little  real- 
ize the  value  your  friends  set  upon  you  that  you  have 
tortured  them  like  this?  Do  you  think  we  shall  soon 
find  another  Wilhelmina  Galbraith  ? " 

Hitherto,  in  his  intercourse  with  her,  he  had  care- 
fully abstained  from  all  appearance  of  flattery;  but  now 
— now  that  from  his  own  point  of  view  it  was  too  late — 
he  guessed  enough  of  her  intense  self-depreciation  to 
know  how  much  she  stood  in  need  of  a  little  loving 
praise. 

She  strangled  a  sob.  In  truth  her  self -estimate  had 
sunk  so  low  that  this  view  of  the  matter  was  almost 
more  than  she  could  bear. 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Ellis  ? "  she  said  as  soon  as  her 
voice  could  be  trusted  at  all. 

"  Of  course  not.  I  am  all  in  the  dark.  But  I  have 
come  prepared  to  say  whatever  you  wish  me  to  say;  so 
take  time  to  think." 

She  took  so  long  that  his  heart  ached  for  her. 

"  There  is  very  little  that  you  need  to  tell  me,**  he 
went  on.  "  Of  course  Mr.  Brentwood  went  to  Windy- 
haugh  the  day  you  left;  you  must  have  known  that  he 
would,  and " 

"But  he  was  ill!" 

"  He  did  look  far  from  well — and,  failing  to  find  you, 
he  came  on  to.- me.  I  think  I  know  enough  to  under- 
stand. He  was  in  great  distress.  He — blames  himself 
very  much." 

Wilhelmina  had  abundant  command  of  her  voice 
now.  It  was  absolutely  steady  and  expressionless  as  she 
said  coldly,  "  It  wasn't  his  fault  in  the  least." 

"And  about  Mr.  Ellis— you  like  him?" 
19 


284  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Yes.    He  was  very  kind  to  me." 

"  Of  course  he  assumes  that  you  are  unmarried.  If 
you  wish  me  to  assume  the  same,  I  will  do  so ;  but  he  is 
sure  to  find  out  the  truth  sooner  or  later,  and — and  in 
his  place  I  should  resent  the  deception." 

She  sighed.  "  Then  I  must  give  up  all  idea  of  the 
situation.  I  knew  it  would  come  to  that.  He  would 
have  found  me  too  ignorant  in  any  case.  Of  course  I 
can't  tell  him  the  truth." 

Mr.  Carmichael  hesitated.  "You  don't  trust  me 
enough  to  leave  the  matter  in  my  hands  ? " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Carmichael,  there  is  nothing  in  all  the 
world  I  wouldn't  trust  you  with.  Do  you  mean  to  say 
you  would  ? " 

He  bit  his  lip.  "  You  would  leave  me  an  absolutely 
free  hand  to  say  as  much  or  as  little  as  I  thought  fit 
when  the  moment  came  ?  " 

She  laughed,  but  he  saw  her  tears  glisten  in  the  fire- 
light. "  What  an  ungrateful  wretch  I  am !  Do  you 
know,  I  have  always  taken  your  goodness  as  much  for 
granted  as  the  fresh  air  and  the  sunshine  ?  It  never  oc- 
curred to  me  till  now  to  think  how  much  I  trust  you." 

It  was  he  who  had  difficulty  in  speaking  this  time. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  quietly  at  last.  "  I  will  come 
and  see  you  again  to-morrow.  Of  course  I  can't  tell  in 
the  least  what  the  result  may  be.  I  don't  know  what 
manner  of  man  your — pastor — is." 

"  I  hope  he  may  be  my  employer  some  day.  You  are 
my  pastor." 

A  few  minutes  later  Mr.  Carmichael  rose  to  go.  Wil- 
helmina  rose  too,  but  she  did  not  take  the  hand  he 
held  out. 

"  Mr.  Carmichael,"  she  said  desperately,  "  if  you 
cared  enough  to  come  all  this  way,  you  must  have  more 
to  say.  Go  on.  You  are  my  pastor,  you  know." 

He  leaned  against  the  mantelpiece,  and  looked  rather 
gloomily  into  the  fire.  "  I  promised  Mr.  Brentwood  that 
I  would  let  him  know  if  I  heard  of  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
need  not  say  that  he  is  very  anxious  to  have  you  back." 

Her  eyes  dilated  with  terror.  "  You  don't — don't 
think  that  is  my  duty  ? " 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED.  285 

He  hesitated  again.  "  As  far  as  I  am  in  a  position 
to  judge,  I  think  you  are  right  to  wait  a  while — if  you 
get  some  work  to  do,  and  have  will  power  enough  to  do 
it  cheerfully."  He  had  a  dreary  selfish  certainty  that 
there  would  be  a  reconciliation  before  long.  "  I  will  tell 
Mr.  Brentwood  that  I  told  you  so,  but  it  won't  be  easy 
to  convince  him  of  the  wisdom  of  it.  I  suppose  you 
know  that  he  is  entitled  to  insist  on  your  going  back  ?  " 

Her  smile  was  a  sad  one.  "  I  have  far  too  much 
respect  for  Mr.  Brentwood  to  be  afraid  of  his  doing 
that." 

The  minister  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "  I  think 
when  you  are  a  little  calmer — a  little  more  self-reliant, 
you  should  have  it  out  with  him.  He  will  never  quite 
believe  you  till  you  do." 

"  Oh,  not  now !  You  won't  think  it  necessary  to  give 
him  my  address  ?  " 

He  turned  on  her  sharply.  "  Of  course  not  until  you 
wish  it."  Then  his  manner  changed.  "  And  what  will 
Mr.  Galbraith  say  to  it  all  ? "  he  asked  almost  shyly. 
He  did  not  in  the  least  realize  how  much  tether  she  was 
giving  him. 

She  sighed.  "Poor  father!  He  was  so  pleased  to 
leave  me  so  happy.  You  know — he  is  ever  so  good  to 
me  when  we  are  together,  but  he  hates  writing  letters, 
and  doesn't  expect  many.  I  wrote  to  him — that  first 
night  at  The  Pines;  just  told  him  what  a  pretty  place  it 
was,  and  how  much  I  liked  Miss  Brentwood,  and  so 
forth.  It  wasn't  very  honest,  I  am  afraid,  but  the  false 
step  lay  farther  back.  By-and-bye  I  will  write  again. 
I  think  I  can  manage  not  to  distress  him  too  much." 

Mr.  Carmichael  had  an  uneasy  suspicion  that  this 
was  more  than  probable. 

"  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Darsie "     She  could  not  go  on. 

"You  may  trust  Mr.  Darsie  always  to  be  very  loyal 
to  you.  He  is  puzzled  and  grieved  of  course." 

She  thought  of  the  talk  that  must  be  going  on  in  the 
little  shop,  and  shuddered.  "  If  I  could  only  explain  to 
people  that  there  has  been  no  quarrel!  Things  would 
be  so  much  easier  than  if  there  had  been!  Mr.  Brent- 
wood is  all  I  ever  thought  he  was — more  in  some  ways." 


286  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  would  not  attempt  to  explain  my- 
self, Miss  Galbraith.  Leave  your  life  to  explain  you. 
It  comes  to  that  in  the  long-run  with  all  of  us."  He 
smiled.  "  Have  you  been  to  Westminster  Abbey  yet  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  absently,  but  a  moment  later  her 
face  lighted  up.  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  you  offered  to  take 
me  years  and  years  ago.  Will  you  give  me  the  chance 
again  ? " 

Yes,  life  gives  us  some  very  good  half -hours  when  we 
have  ceased  to  demand  the  impossible.  Wilhelmina  for- 
got her  troubles  next  day  to  an  almost  incredible  extent. 
Mr.  Carmichael  called  for  her  before  noon.  He  had  al- 
ready had  an  interview  with  Mr.  Ellis. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  fortunate  if  you  get  the  situ- 
ation," he  said.  "  There  are  a  great  many  applicants." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  answered  rather  ruefully,  "  and 
many  of  them  must  know  so  much  more  than  I  do." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt !  But  Mr.  Ellis  seemed  to  think  you 
the  most  human  of  those  he  had  seen." 

"  Human  ?  "  said  Wilhelmina  puzzled.  "  Am  I  hu- 
man?" 

This  was  the  only  question  she  asked  with  reference 
to  the  interview,  though  Mr.  Carmichael  volunteered  no 
information.  Her  notion  of  trusting  people  was  a  very 
whole-hearted  one. 

They  enjoyed  their  day  in  London  as  only  country 
cousins  can.  Westminster  Abbey  in  the  morning,  fol- 
lowed by  dinner  in  an  old-fashioned  eating-house  that 
Mr.  Carmichael's  father  had  patronized  before  him;  the 
Park  in  the  afternoon,  and — oh,  daring  dissipation! — 
Hamlet  in  the  evening! 

Mr.  Carmichael  had  not  read  the  play  for  some  time, 
and  he  was  a  little  uneasy  as  to  what  Ophelia  might  say 
or  do,  but  Wilhelmina  was  soon  so  absorbed  in  the  cen- 
tral character  that  she  had  no  sympathy  left  for  Ophelia. 
Of  course  she  fairly  quivered  at  first  under  the  recol- 
lection of  the  last  time  she  had  been  in  a  theatre;  her 
face  tingled  when  Laertes  and  Polonius  overwhelmed 
the  love-struck  heroine  with  advice  that  cut  like  a  sur- 
geon's knife;  but  the  moment  that  painful  scene  was 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED.  287 

over,  Wilhelmina  turned  to  her  companion  with  a  quiet 
frosty  little  smile.  It  was  not  an  unqualified  artistic 
success  that  smile;  she  was  new  to  the  role  of  woman 
of  the  world,  and  she  did  not  even  impose  upon  an  hon- 
est Scotsman;  but  the  very  attempt  was  a  promise  of 
better  things. 

On  the  way  home  she  broke  into  a  low  laugh  of  real 
amusement.  "  We  used  to  recite  *  To  be  or  not  to  be ' 
at  school,"  she  said.  "  How  could  they  let  us  do  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  bit  of  a  revelation,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  It  reminded  me  of  a  sermon  of  yours — '  The  letter 
killeth,  the  spirit  giveth  life.'  I  never  realized  before 
that  it  takes  two  people  to  make  a  book — the  man  who 
writes  it,  and  the  man  who  reads  it." 

"  It  is  the  old  story,  isn't  it — '  He  that  hath  ears  to 
hear,  let  him  hear.'  Well,  Miss  Galbraith,  I  have  to 
thank  you  for  a  very  refreshing  day." 

"  Oh,  if  you  talk  of  thanks !  "  she  said.  "  You  have 
simply  given  me  a  fresh  start." 

"  That  is  right.  Keep  up  your  courage,  and  don't 
look  back.  I  will  look  in  to-morrow  on  my  way  to  the 
station,  and  see  if  you  have  heard  from  Mr.  Ellis." 

"  Thank  you.  May  I  come  with  you  to  the  station  ? 
I  think  my  boxes  should  have  arrived.  I  told  Ann  to 
send  them  to  the  cloak-room  at  King's  Cross.  Dear  old 
Ann!  When  you  see  her — you  will  comfort  her  a  bit? 
You  see,  I  am  taking  your  kindness  for  granted  again." 

"  I  hope  you  always  will — such  as  it  is." 

"  Such  as  it  is  "—she  sighed—"  it  is  the  thing  that 
makes  a  weary  world  worth  while." 

He  found  her  in  tears  next  morning,  yet  her  face  was 
as  bright  as  an  April  day. 

"Oh,"' she  said,  "do  you  know  it  is  settled?  I 
thought  he  would  ask  me  a  hundred  questions  first;  but 
he  wants  me  to  go  at  once — to  live  in  the  house.  He  is 
responsible  for  my  ignorance,  isn't  he  ? " 

"  Assuredly." 

She  threw  back  her  head  in  playful  pride.  "  Can  you 
believe  it,  Mr.  Carmichael?  I  am  a  breadwinner — I  am 
a  breadwinner!  I'm  a  made  man!" 


288  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

NEW   FRIENDS   AND   OLD. 

"  THE  master  would  like  to  see  you  in  the  study, 
miss." 

Wilhelmina  turned  pale.  Of  course  she  had  expected 
the  summons,  and  yet  it  filled  her  with  apprehension. 
She  had  not  the  least  idea  how  much  Mr.  Ellis  knew 
of  her  history,  and,  in  addition  to  her  uneasiness  on 
this  score,  she  dreaded  some  exposure  of  her  shameful 
ignorance. 

But  the  clergyman's  manner  was  very  reassuring. 
"  Well,"  he  said  kindly,  "  I  hope  they  have  made  you 
comfortable." 

"  Very  comfortable,  thank  you." 

"  And  you  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  your  pu- 
pils. Sit  down,  please.  They  are  not  very  formidable, 
are  they?" 

Wilhelmina  smiled.  "  They  are  quite  formidable 
enough,"  she  said.  "  They  have  been  telling  me  stories. 
I  am  afraid  they  know  more  about  some  things  than 
I  do." 

He  laughed.  "  Oh,  I  tell  them  all  sorts  of  things 
when  they  come  down  here  before  dinner.  Children  are 
like  the  rest  of  us — they  often  learn  most  when  they 
don't  realize  that  they  are  learning  at  all." 

She  looked  perplexed. 

"  But  of  course  I  want  you  to  set  them  definite  tasks. 
It  is  quite  time.  You  won't  find  their  three  R's  on  a 
level  with  their  general  information,  I  assure  you." 

He  proceeded  to  explain  his  wishes,  and  she  listened 
intently.  The  amount  of  fresh  air  and  games  in  his 
programme  startled  her. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her  earnestness,  "  do  you 
approve  ? " 

"I  understand  now,"  she  said,  "how  it  is  they  look 
so  happy.  It  seems  to  me  you  give  them  no  chance 
to  sin." 


NEW  FRIENDS  AND  OLD.  289 

Sin.  The  uncompromising  word  carried  with  it  a 
breath  of  old  Windyhaugh. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Carmichael  had  referred  to  Wilhelmina's 
early  days,  for  the  clergyman's  voice  was  very  gentle  as 
he  said — "  I  think  those  of  us  who  have  known  the  sor- 
rows of  childhood  ourselves  must  be  the  more  anxious 
to  deliver  the  little  ones  from  the  evil." 

Wilhelmina's  face  shone.  "That's  true!  I  often 
think  people  don't  realize  how  good  for  us  happiness  is. 
After  all,  it  is  happiness  that  makes  us  humble." 

Mr.  Ellis  smiled.  "  Some  of  us,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  Well,  good-night,  Miss  Galbraith.  You  must  always 
let  me  know  if  you  are  in  difficulty,  or  if  there  is  any- 
thing you  want.  I  don't  suppose  you  have  many  books 
with  you.  Do  you  care  to  take  one  ? " 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said.  "  Might  I  have 
Hamlet?" 

"  Certainly."  He  turned  to  his  poets'  corner.  "  Have 
you  read  it  before  ?  " 

"  I  read  it  at  school.  Mr.  Carmichael  took  me  to  see 
it  the  other  night." 

"  Oh  ?     Sit  down  and  tell  me  about  it." 

This  made  her  nervous.  "  I  thought  it  splendid," 
she  said  feebly.  "When  Hamlet  came  in  front  of  the 
curtain,  I  was  so  glad  to  see  that  he  was  still  alive.  The 
one  thing  that  disappointed  me  was  the  ghost." 

He  smiled.  This  was  a  youthful  criticism.  "  I  sup- 
pose he  did  look  a  bit  stagey." 

"  I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean — I  was  disappointed  in 
his  views  of  things.  If  that  is  all  a  month  of  eternity 
does  for  a  good  man " 

Mr.  Ellis  did  not  answer  immediately.  Again  he  felt 
that  sough  in  the  waves  and  trees  he  had  never  seen. 
"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "  if  Shakespeare  had  set  out  to 
tell  us  what  a  month  of  eternity  does  for  a  good  man — 
we  should  never  have  had  the  story  of  Hamlet,  Prince 
of  Denmark." 

"Of  course  not!"  Wilhelmina's  eyes  flashed  admi- 
ration. 

( ' '  Du  lieber  Gott,  was  so  ein  Mann 
Nicht  alles,  alles  denken  kann  / ") 


290  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  So  I  suppose  he  gave  us  just  very  much  what  the 
people  expected  in  the  way  of  a  ghost,  or  rather  per- 
haps " — Mr.  Ellis  was  paying  his  listener  the  compli- 
ment of  thinking  aloud — "  he  gave  us  what  Hamlet  ex- 
pected." 

She  looked  very  grave.  "  Do  you  mean  that  there 
wasn't  really  any  ghost  ?  " 

He  smiled.  "  Who  shall  say  when  there  is  and  when 
there  isn't  a  ghost?  In  any  case  we  see  it  through  the 
medium  of  Hamlet's  personality.  However  genuinely  a 
man  may  reveal  the  supernatural — the  eternal,  the  spir- 
itual, call  it  what  you  will — it  remains  true  in  a  sense 
that  he  is  only  revealing  himself."  Mr.  Ellis  had  taken 
flight  to  a  higher  plane  of  thought.  He  was  surprised 
to  find  from  Wilhelmina's  next  words  that  she  had  fol- 
lowed him. 

"  You  mean — he  is  God's  window." 

The  clergyman  looked  at  her.  "  That  is  a  beautiful 
way  of  putting  it,  Miss  Galbraith.  Yes — God  help  him ! 
— he  is  God's  window."  He  paused.  "  And  the  moral 
is " 

Wilhelmina  laughed  softly.  "  Not  to  shut  the  shut- 
ters?" 

He  nodded  gravely.  "  Nor  to  stain  the  glass.  No ; 
that  won't  do.  It  is  precisely  in  his  own  involuntary 
colouring  of  the  light  that  his  self -revelation — that  the 
artistic  quality  of  his  message — comes  in.  But  at  least 
he  is  bound  to  keep  the  glass  clear  and  bright." 

"  Ah !  "     She  sighed.     "  And  that  is  not  easy." 

"  No.  It  is  just  there  that  the  whole  genius  of  liv- 
ing lies." 

She  looked  fixedly  into  the  fire.  The  allegory  fas- 
cinated her.  "  You  know,"  she  said  shyly  at  last,  "  how 
some  glasses  distort  things  ? " 

He  smiled.  "It  seems  to  me,  Miss  Galbraith,  that 
we  are  making  considerable  headway  with  one  of  my 
future  sermons." 

Mr.  Ellis  was  very  glad  that  he  had  taken  Mr.  Car- 
michael's  advice,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  did  not  see 
much  of  Wilhelmina  for  some  time  after  this.  He  had 


NEW  FRIENDS  AND  OLD.  291 

a  thousand  interests  in  life,  and  that  dangerously  sympa- 
thetic manner  of  his  brought  many  people  to  ask  his  help 
and  advice.  He  wished  sometimes  that  he  had  an  in- 
definite number  of  vacancies  for  nursery-governesses! 
He  always  meant  to  see  more  of  the  young  girl,  but 
when  evening  chanced  to  find  him  at  leisure,  it  was  apt 
to  find  him  tired  with  the  day's  work,  and  more  inclined 
to  drowse  in  his  arm-chair  over  a  favourite  book  than 
to  balance  himself  on  the  pedestal  with  which  he  was 
well  aware  his  nursery-governess  had  furnished  him. 
Enthusiastic  youth  is  apt  to  be  so  merciless !  One  even- 
ing, however,  when  his  head  was  tired,  he  sent  for  her 
to  read  to  him,  and  the  experiment  was  so  successful 
that  he  repeated  it  once  and  again.  The  charm  of  her 
voice  appealed  to  him  strongly,  and  of  course  the  read- 
ing proved  an  education  for  her.  He  was  always  inter- 
ested too  to  hear  her  naive  criticisms  of  the  books  he 
lent  her.  He  encouraged  her  to  read  romances  and 
poetry  as  well  as  more  solid  works,  but,  after  a  few  at- 
tempts, she  refused.  The  "  sentiment "  was  more  than 
she  could  bear.  Her  one  chance  at  this  time  was  to 
divide  her  life  into  water-tight  compartments. 

What  saved  and  steadied  her  more  even  than  the  work 
she  had  undertaken  was  the  profound  conviction  that 
that  work  was  too  high  for  her.  She  never  doubted  that, 
even  if  she  threw  her  whole  self  into  it,  she  would  still 
be  found  wanting — though  not,  perhaps,  in  her  employ- 
er's eyes. 

She  made  the  most  too  of  her  occasional  free  after- 
noons. Those  water-tight  compartments  were  not  so 
reliable  that  she  could  afford  to  indulge  in  leisure  and 
reverie.  In  a  profoundly  conscientious  spirit  she  vis- 
ited the  Tower,  St.  Paul's,  the  British  Museum,  South 
Kensington — thus  learning  to  know  her  London,  and 
gradually,  without  self-assertion,  assuming  her  rights 
as  a  unit  in  that  mighty  aggregate  of  units. 

One  day,  as  was  her  wont,  she  had  stopped  at  a  book- 
stall, and  was  dipping  into  this  and  that,  when  she  was 
struck  by  something  familiar  in  the  attitude  of  a  shab- 
bily-dressed young  woman  by  her  side.  A  moment  later 
their  eyes  met. 


292  WINDYHAUGH. 

"Wilhelmina!" 

"  Joan  Burnet !  " 

They  grasped  each  other's  hands,  and  stood  for  some 
seconds  without  speaking.  Miss  Burnet's  eyes  slowly 
filled  with  tears.  "  You  never  wrote  again,"  she  said, 
rather  incoherently. 

"  No.     Are  you  free  ?     Can  you  come  for  a  walk  ?  " 

And  they  set  off  together  through  the  streets  of 
London. 

Oh,  wonderful,  wise,  all-knowing  streets  of  London! 
What  have  you  not  heard  and  seen  and  felt !  Is  there 
a  sorrow,  a  joy,  that  has  been  hid  from  your  eyes  ?  Have 
you  not  been  in  the  confidence  of  all? — the  enthusiast, 
the  pleasure-seeker,  the  wondering  country  girl,  the  ar- 
dent lover,  the  desperate  woman,  the  thief  at  night,  the 
babbling  child?  The  dross  has  been  spread  and  flaunted 
before  your  eyes,  yet,  in  its  depths,  you  have  caught  the 
rare  gleam  of  gold.  Do  you  laugh? — do  you  weep? — 
or  have  you  long  ceased  to  look  and  listen  ?  If  we  could 
open  up  your  books  at  the  great  day,  what  should  we 
read? — a  chronicle? — a  philosophy? — or  merely  an  epi- 
gram? Are  you  poet,  moralist,  or  cynic?  You  have 
seen  it  all — all;  and  there  you  stand  impassive  as  the 
Sphinx — silent  as  God  himself. 

So,  as  the  many  thousands  had  done  before  them,  the 
two  girls  carried  their  poor  little  confidences  through 
the  London  streets. 

Wilhelmina  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  I  didn't  know 
you  were  in  town,"  she  said. 

"  I  just  came  up  for  a  week — for  an  examination. 
Oh,  I  do  hope  and  pray  that  I  may  have  passed !  " 

"But  what  are  you  doing  it  for?  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  be  a  missionary  ? " 

"  So  did  I ;  but — well,  I  suppose  I  was  not  worthy. 
We  have  been  in  sad  trouble  at  home.  We  have  lost 
almost  all  our  money,  and  if  the  children  are  to  have 
any  proper  education  at  all,  we  older  ones  must  find  the 
means.  Mrs.  Summers  has  been  so  kind.  She  strongly 
advised  me  to  spend  a  year  or  two  in  study.  She  says 
the  first  few  women  who  take  their  London  degrees  will 
get  excellent  salaries." 


NEW  FRIENDS  AND  OLD.  293 

"  And  that  is  what  you  are  doing  now  ?  " 

"I  am  up  for  my  Matriculation.  If  I  pass  I  shall 
come  to  London  and  work  at  the  Napier  Institute.  The 
classes  there  are  good  and  very  cheap." 

"  You  had  such  a  good  education,  hadn't  you  ?  "  Wil- 
helmina  said  enviously.  "And  you  always  worked  so 
hard." 

"  Oh,  I  felt  as  if  I  knew  nothing  when  I  began  this." 
For  the  second  time  the  Quakeress  pressed  her  fingers 
firmly  above  her  left  eyebrow. 

"  There  is  a  tea-shop  close  by  here,"  said  Wilhelmina. 
"  Come." 

A  headache  was  a  thing  full  of  significance  for  her 
now,  and  she  carefully  refrained  from  speaking  again 
till  they  were  seated  at  the  little  marble  table  and  the 
Quakeress  had  renewed  the  conversation. 

"  Yesterday  was  the  worst,"  she  said.  "  I  really  had 
crammed  the  subjects  for  yesterday." 

"  What  were  the  subjects?  " 

"  All  of  them?  Latin,  French,  German,  English  Al- 
gebra, Geometry,  Arithmetic,  Natural  Philosophy,  and 
Chemistry." 

She  felt  some  pride  in  the  enumeration,  as  a  girl  well 
might  in  those  days,  but  she  strove  not  to  show  it.  That 
was  the  crushing  part  of  the  announcement.  She  ran 
over  the  dire  list  as  glibly  as  if  she  had  been  saying, 
"Butter,  eggs,  milk,  cheese,"  or  "Ribbons,  ruches, 
gauzes,  flowers,"  or  anything  else  that  was  simple  and 
frivolous. 

Wilhelmina's  face  fell.  "Nothing  else?"  she  asked 
whimsically. 

"  Do  you  care  to  see  the  papers  ? " 

"  Very  much." 

They  were  sipping  their  tea  in  comfort,  and  the  Quak- 
eress produced  the  formidable  sheaf  which  now-a-days 
the  London  Geisha  girl  must  know  so  well. 

Wilhelmina  glanced  over  the  grey-white  slips,  and 
then  looked  hard  at  her  friend.  "  What  I  can't  make 
out,"  she  said,  "  is  how  it  is  that  you  look  so  much  the 
same  as  before.  I  suppose  your  head  is  bigger,  but  even 
that  is  not  noticeable." 


294  WINDYHAUGH. 

Miss  Burnet  smiled.  "  You  have  changed,"  she  said 
frankly. 

"  Grown  old  and  ugly  ?  " 

"  No.  Yes,  you  do  look  older.  I  can't  express  it. 
You  look  so  much  more  mistress  of  yourself." 

Wilhelmina  flushed — partly  with  pleasure.  "  One 
had  need  be,"  she  said  tersely. 

"  Your  letters  did  help  me  so,  Wilhelmina.  They 
were  just  beautiful."  There  was  no  reply,  so  she  went  on, 
"  And  how  do  you  come  to  be  in  London  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  in  trouble  too,  and  have  to  work 
for  myself."  She  was  thankful  to  find  that  the  Quak- 
eress knew  nothing  of  her  marriage.  "  But  I  am  only 
a  very  inferior  little  nursery-governess." 

"In  a  family?" 

"  In  a  clergyman's  family." 

"  That  must  be  a  great  privilege." 

"  It  is  indeed — very  great.  He  lends  me  books,  and 
his  sermons  are  so  helpful.  Shall  you  be  in  town  to- 
morrow ?  Would  you  like  to  hear  him  ? " 

Miss  Burnet  hesitated.  "  There  are  so  many  won- 
derful preachers  in  London,"  she  said,  "  but  I  should 
like  to  hear  your  clergyman.  Of  course  I  am  going 
to  the  Tabernacle  in  the  morning.  In  the  evening  I 
could  go." 

So  they  arranged  a  meeting  and  parted. 

Wilhelmina  met  Mr.  Ellis  on  the  staircase  when  she 
went  home. 

"  Well,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "  have  you  had  a  good 
time?" 

Her  face  brightened  as  it  always  did  when  she  spoke 
to  him.  "  Very  good,  thank  you.  I  met  an  old  school 
friend." 

"  That's  right.  Suppose  you  come  down  and  pay  me 
a  visit  this  evening  ?  " 

"  May  I?     Thank  you  so  much." 

He  wondered  when  she  came  that  he  did  not  ask  her 
oftener.  She  was  so  earnest,  so  sympathetic,  so  ready 
and  eager  to  talk  of  his  children.  "  And  what  book  do 
you  want  now  ? "  he  asked  when  she  rose  to  go. 

She  hesitated.     "  I  wish  you  would  put  me  in  the 


NEW  FRIENDS  AND  OLD.  295 

way  of  getting  a  little  education,"  she  said  shame- 
facedly. 

"  Education  ?  Don't  Shakespeare  and  Ruskin  and 
Fitch  mean  education  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  suppose  I  mean  instruction.  I  have  no 
foundations.  There  are  constant  references  that  I  don't 
understand." 

He  looked  amused.  He  judged — rightly — that  her 
intellect  was  not  her  strongest  point.  "  Well,"  he  said, 
"  choose.  I  believe  in  a  man's  reading  the  book  he 
wants  to  read." 

She  coloured  painfully.  "Might  I  have  a  Latin 
grammar  ? " 

Mr.  Ellis  laughed.  "  I  didn't  know  you  had  learned 
any  Latin." 

"  I  haven't." 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  you  won't  make  much  of  it  by 
yourself ;  but  there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  try." 

If  his  aim  had  been  to  spur  her  on,  he  could  have 
chosen  no  better  means  of  doing  it.  Appreciation  made 
her  diffident:  to  doubt  her  powers  was  to  double  them. 
But  in  truth  her  hour  had  come.  She  needed  no  spur- 
ring now. 

She  took  the  shabby  old  volume  as  a  starving  man 
takes  bread.  Her  whole  intellect  hungered  for  it.  Her 
eyes  caressed  those  little  columns  of  nouns  and  verbs. 
What  joy  to  seize  and  devour  them  one  by  one!  How 
had  she  been  content  to  forego  for  so  long  the  exquisite 
joy  of  sheer  learning?  The  soil  had  lain  unused  for 
years,  and  now  it  gathered  rich  and  warm  round  the  dry 
little  seeds.  It  glowed  and  thrilled  like  the  bosom  of  a 
mother  at  the  touch  of  her  first  born.  Alas  for  the  girls 
who  learn  so  much  at  school  that  they  never  can  bring 
to  a  subject  the  richness  of  fallow  ground !  The  woman 
of  twenty — forty — years  ago  cried  out  for  learning  be- 
cause she  was  anhungered,  athirst!  but  now  she  had 
taken  good  care  that  her  daughters  shall  hunger  no 
more.  It  is  all  very  wise  and  right  and  profitable  no 
doubt — but  it  is  just  so  much  less  joy  in  the  world. 


296  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

BY   THEIR   FRUITS. 

ON  Sunday  evening  the  two  girls  went  to  church  to- 
gether. Mr.  Ellis  was  in  his  most  sympathetic  mood, 
and  Wilhelmina  rejoiced  that  her  friend  should  hear 
him  at  his  best ;  but  the  Quakeress  was  slow  to  express  an 
opinion  when  they  came  out. 

"  Well,"  Wilhelmina  was  forced  to  say  at  last,  "  how 
did  you  like  it?" 

"  I  noticed  that  he  fought  very  shy  of  the  word 
convert" 

Wilhelmina  stopped  to  think.  She  kept  her  doc- 
trines in  a  back  cupboard,  but  she  kept  them  as  cherished 
heirlooms,  and  she  felt  sure  that  they  were  all  intact. 
"  The  people  there  were  not  all  unconverted." 

"  But  think  of  those  that  were !  If  there  had  even 
been  a  few  words  at  the  end  to  point  them  in  the  right 
direction!  If  one  of  those  unconverted  people  dies  to- 
night, I  should  not  like  to  see  Mr.  Ellis." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  answer.  She  was  striving  to 
think  of  any  occasion  on  which  the  clergyman  had 
preached  conversion.  She  had  derived  so  much  help 
from  his  teaching,  that  she  had  never  been  struck  till 
now  by  the  absence  of  doctrinal  substance  in  it. 

From  that  day  she  began  to  listen  to  him  in  the  spirit 
of  an  old  inquisitor.  She  longed  to  acquit  him  of  the 
charge  the  quakeress  had  brought;  she  made  the  most 
of  many  a  little  reference  and  quotation;  but — looked 
at  from  the  point  of  view  of  "  the  man  who  must  die 
to-night " — there  was  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Ellis's  sermons 
left  much  to  be  desired.  In  her  search  for  what  was  not 
there,  Wilhelmina  grew  blind  and  deaf  to  the  good  and 
true  thoughts  that  were  there.  In  this  particular  she 
had  certainly  contrived  to  hit  upon  the  least  profitable 
way  of  looking  at  life. 

One  evening  in  February  Mr.  Ellis  bethought  him  of 
hip  nursery-governess,  and  her  Latin  grammar.  Smil- 


BY  THEIR  FRUITS.  297 

ing,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  bell.  "  Ask  Miss  Galbraith 
to  speak  to  me,"  he  said,  "  and  to  bring  me  the  book 
I  lent  her  some  weeks  ago." 

Wilhelmina  lost  no  time  in  obeying  the  summons, 
but  she  felt  less  at  ease  with  him  than  she  had  done  for 
long. 

"  Come  and  have  a  chat,"  he  said  genially,  pointing 
to  the  arm-chair  at  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  "  Well,  I 
think  the  congregation  behaved  very  well  last  night, 
don't  you?" 

She  looked  perplexed. 

"  When  there  was  that  little  alarm  of  fire  ?  " 

Perhaps — we  are  all  human — he  wanted  her  to  say 
that  he  had  managed  the  congregation  extremely  well; 
but  for  once  Wilhelmina  looked  blank. 

"  Was  there  an  alarm  of  fire  ?  "  she  said,  "  I  wasn't  at 
church." 

"Tired?" 

"  No.     I  went  to  the  Tabernacle." 

His  eyes  grew  round.  "  That  was  enterprising  of 
you." 

"I  have  been  there  repeatedly  of  late.  Perhaps  I 
ought  to  have  told  you  before." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  should  have  told  me,"  he 
said  rather  doubtfully.  "  Kemarkable  man,  isn't  he?" 

"  Very.  He  preached  conversion.  If  any  uncon- 
verted person  there  died  last  night,  the  preacher  would 
have  nothing — nothing  to  reproach  himself  with." 

"Ah!"  The  least  suspicion  of  a  smile  played  about 
the  clergyman's  mouth,  but  Wilhelmina  was  gazing  fix- 
edly into  the  fire.  Her  face  was  very  red.  Her  breath 
came  fast.  "  You  don't  agree  with  me  then,  Miss  Gal- 
braith, that  the  best  preparation  for  a  good  death  is  a 
good  life." 

"  Why — yes,"  she  said,  drawn  this  way  and  that  by 
instinct  and  belief,  "  a  good  life  built  on  the  right  foun- 
dation." 

He  seemed  uncertain  whether  to  reply,  and  finally  he 
changed  the  subject. 

"  And  how  goes  the  Latin  grammar  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Not  so  well  as  I  should  like."     This  was  honest. 


298  WINDYHAUGH. 

Wilhelmina  had  no  ordinary  student  companions  by 
whom  to  reckon  her  progress. 

He  held  out  his  hand  for  the  book.  "  Is  this  your 
marker?" 

"  Yes." 

It  is  difficult  for  the  public-school  man  to  realize 
what  it  means  to  bring  a  fairly  mature  mind  to  the 
study  of  Latin.  Mr.  Ellis  had  expected  Wilhelmina  to 
travel  at  the  rate  of  a  boy  in  the  preparatory  school; 
but  he  succeeded  in  showing  no  surprise. 

"  Then  we  will  put  you  through  your  paces,"  he  said 
quietly. 

He  read  the  terror  in  her  face — the  longing  for  an 
evening  in  which  to  "  revise  " ;  he  was  quite  aware  that 
it  took  all  her  pluck  and  common-sense  and  ingrained 
humility  to  make  her  hold  her  ground.  That  was  what 
gave  the  situation  its  piquancy — from  his  point  of  view. 

He  was  a  good  examiner.  His  first  questions  were 
so  easy  that  she  almost  took  them  for  a  joke;  when  the 
time  came  really  to  exercise  her  mind,  she  was  in  full 
possession  of  it.  He  laughed  a  good  deal,  for  of  course 
the  mistakes  she  made  were  precisely  those  which  a 
schoolboy  would  not  have  made,  but  it  did  not  take  her 
long  to  find  out  that  she  was  surprising  him,  and  then 
his  amusement  ceased  to  hurt.  Before  ten  minutes  were 
over,  she  was  seated  in  a  low  chair  by  his  side,  her  face 
all  aglow  with  unselfconscious  enthusiasm.  The  night 
was  late  when  they  bethought  them  of  looking  at  the 
clock. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  there  was  nothing  to  be  so  much 
alarmed  about,  was  there  ?  " 

She  drew  a  long  breath.  Any  ordinary  word  of 
thanks  seemed  ridiculously  inadequate.  "  I  haven't  been 
so  happy  for — a  hundred  years,"  she  said. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  very  kindly.  "  I 
thought  you  looked  more  at  home  when  you  were  learn- 
ing from  me  than  when  you  were  sitting  in  judgment 
on  my  doctrine." 

She  blushed,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  her  to  deny  that 
she  had  been  sitting  in  judgment  on  his  doctrine. 

"  Indescribably,"  she  said,  naively. 


BY  THEIR  FRUITS.  299 

"  That's  right !  Then  I  would  try  to  remember  for 
my  comfort,  if  I  were  you,  that  l  we  are  none  of  us  in- 
fallible— not  even  the  youngest.' " 

Her  head  was  resting  on  her  hand.  She  did  not 
speak,  but  the  curves  of  her  face  ran  into  the  expression 
of  receptivity  that  is  so  rare  in  the  young. 

"  About  this  word  '  conversion,'  for  instance ;  and 
all  the  other  words  of  the  kind — don't  you  think  one 
may  deliberately  elect  to  avoid  them  because  they  have 
become  mere  counters,  so  to  speak — so  familiar 
to  us  that  we  have  come  to  take  the  word  for  the 
thing?" 

She  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  And  about  the  ( foundations  ' — are  you  quite  sure 
that  they  are  any  business  of  yours  ?  '  By  their  fruits 
ye  shall  know  them.  Do  men  gather  grapes  of  thorns  or 
figs  of  thistles?" 

Her  face  grew  firm  and  dogged,  as  if  she  were  ad- 
dressing, not  him,  but  some  imaginary  opponent.  "  Why 
should  not  one  simply  take  one's  stand  on  that,  and  re- 
fuse to  pry  and  probe  ?  " 

"  Why  indeed  ? — especially  if  one  is  young  and  very 
— very  ignorant  ?  " 

She  smiled.  It  was  comforting  that  he  should  take 
that  ignorance  of  hers  for  granted.  - 

"  Our  whole  chance  of  education  lies  in  looking  to 
things — books,  pictures,  sermons,  people — for  what  they 
have,  and  not  for  what  they  have  not." 

She  looked  puzzled.  "  But  whenever  I  get  to  know 
anything  or  anybody,  I  seem  to  see  good  in  them." 

"  Then  thank  God  you  are  not  blind  to  the  good." 

"  But  that  is  such  an  easy  way  of  looking  at  life !  " 

"Then  thank  God  that  it  is  easy." 

Wilhelmina  rose  to  her  feet.  "  It  seems  ridiculous 
now,"  she  said,  "  but  it  is  quite  true  that  I  have  been 
sitting  in  judgment  on  your  doctrine,  and  it  has  just  felt 
horrid!"  She  drew  a  long  breath.  "It  is  so  much 
pleasanter  to  be  content  with  the  fact  that  there  is  more 
wisdom  in  your  little  finger  than  in  the  whole  of  me — 
twice  told !  " 

"  We  must  have  another  Latin  lesson,"  he  said.  "  Let 
20 


300  WINDYHAUGH. 

me  see — Tuesday,  Wednesday — Friday  I  shall  be  at 
home." 

Friday  evening  settled  the  matter. 

Wilhelmina  had  worked  hard  all  along.  In  the  days 
that  intervened  before  her  second  lesson,  she  poured  into 
her  Latin  exercises  a  wealth  of  penitence  and  gratitude 
that  could  not  fail  to  bear  abundant  fruit. 

At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  Mr.  Ellis  laid  down  the 
book. 

"  You  had  not  done  any  Latin  before  ? "  he  said. 

"  No." 

"Not  at  school?" 

"  No." 

"Nor  with  your  father." 

"  No." 

"  And  you  have  not  dabbled  in  it  by  yourself  ? " 

The  tears  rose  to  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Ellis,"  she  said, 
"I  am  not  very  honest,  but  at  least  I  have  suffered  too 
much  to  lie  about  a  thing  like  that ! " 

He  was  too  preoccupied  to  pay  any  attention  to  her 
natural  resentment.  He  rose  from  his  arm-chair,  and, 
going  over  to  his  writing-table,  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink. 

"  Now,"  he  said  simply,  "  tell  me  how  much  money 
you  have  apart  from  the  pittance  you  get  from  me — 
what  your  father  gives  you,  I  mean." 

"  Forty  pounds  a  year."  She  did  not  think  it  neces- 
sary to  specify  that  her  father  did  not  give  it  to  her. 

"  And  what  did  it  cost  you  to  live  in  lodgings  before 
you  came  here  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  shillings  a  week." 

"  Forty  pounds.     Dress  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing — for  years  to  come.  Besides — I  have 
saved  a  little  here.  I  have  fully  fifty  pounds  in  hand." 

He  laid  down  his  quill,  and  returned  to  his  arm-chair. 
"  In  that  case,"  he  said,  "  my  next  duty  is  to  look  out 
for  a  new  governess." 

Her  face  fell.  "You  are  not  going  to  send  me 
away?" 

"  I  think  so.  I  think  so  unquestionably.  I  have  no 
great  enthusiasm  for  the  higher  education  of  women,  as 
they  call  it;  but  you  certainly  have  a  turn  for — for 


BY  THEIR  FRUITS.  301 

scholarship,  and  I  should  like  to  see  what  you  will  make 
of  it." 

"  But  can't  I  teach  and  study  too  ?  " 

He  hesitated.  "  I  think  not.  No,  I  think  not.  How 
old  are  you?  Nineteen?  From  the  point  of  view  of 
sheer  scholarship,  you  have  wasted  some  of  the  best 
years  of  your  life  already.  The  question  is — where  are 
you  to  get  your  classes  ? " 

"At  the  Napier  Institute,"  she  responded  glibly. 

"But  won't  you  meet  some  very  rough  people  there?  " 

"  Shall  I  ?  Oh,  I  don't  mind  that.  Besides,  I  have 
a  friend  who  has  to  be  very  economical,  and  who  is 
going  to  work  there." 

"  And  could  you  arrange  to  live  with  her  ? " 

"  I  think  so." 

"Well,  we  might  make  a  trial  of  the  Napier,"  he 
said  slowly.  He  spoke  with  quiet  matter-of-course  in- 
terest, as  if  he  were  arranging  for  a  daughter  of  his  own. 
In  truth  he  had  meant  to  help  her  out  with  her  fees,  but 
if  she  could  pay  her  own  way  in  the  first  instance — so 
much  the  better. 

Wilhelmina's  face  was  like  a  landscape  on  an  April 
day.  "  I  do  hope  I  shan't  disappoint  you,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  such  a  way  of  disappointing  people !  " 

He  looked  at  her  seriously.  "  I  am  not  at  all  sure 
that  you  won't  disappoint  me,"  he  said.  "  You  have 
begun  well,  but  it  may  turn  out  that  you  have  no  stay- 
ing-power. Both  you  and  I  must  lay  our  account  for 
that.  Then  perhaps  you  will  work  too  hard,  and  turn 
out  a  mere  blue-stocking.  That  would  be  a  much  greater 
disappointment.  You  must  come  often  and  have  a  romp 
with  my  girls  and  keep  yourself  human.  I  want  to  in- 
troduce you,  too,  to  a  Shakespeare  Reading  Club.  You 
have  a  real  gift  for  dramatic  reading.  And  finally — 
people  are  so  ready  to  flatter  a  woman !  They  will  soon 
begin  to  tell  you  that  you  are  clever  and  learned,  and  I 
am  afraid  you  will  believe  them.  That  would  be  the 
greatest  disappointment  of  all.  I  should  not  call  you 
clever,  Miss  Galbraith;  and  you  are  very  ignorant — 
shockingly  ignorant.  It  may  be  years  before  you  know 
as  much  as  an  ordinary  schoolboy." 


302  WINDYHAUGH. 

She  nodded,  smiling  brightly  through  the  tears  that 
shone  in  her  eyes,  but  did  not  fall.  "I  shall  be  con- 
ceited indeed,"  she  said,  "  if  the  thought  of  your  kind- 
ness does  not  keep  me  humble.  After  all,  what  am  I 
to  you?" 

She  rose  to  go  as  she  spoke,  and  he  held  out  his 
hand.  "  My  friend,  I  hope,"  he  said. 

"  Oh !  "  Her  eyes  looked  eager  question.  "  Thank 
you.  That  is  the  best  of  all." 

Mr.  Ellis  closed  the  door  behind  her,  and  stirred  the 
fire.  "  Poor  fellow !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Poor  Car- 
michael ! " 

Wilhelmina  did  not  sleep  much  that  night.  Her 
brain  was  in  a  whirl.  She  never  would  have  had  suffi- 
cient faith  in  her  powers  to  take  this  step  on  her  own 
responsibility;  but  now  that  Mr.  Ellis  had  suggested 
and  fostered  the  idea,  her  heart  was  full  of  exultation. 
Her  mental  thews  and  sinews  were  just  getting  into 
form,  and  she  rejoiced  literally  like  a  strong  man  to  run 
a  race.  Some  day,  please  God,  she  would  be  an  edu- 
cated woman,  and — and — would  Harley  Brentwood  ever 
know?" 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

HARLEY    BRENTWOOD. 

IT  was  a  Sunday  afternoon  in  March,  and  great 
flabby  flakes  of  snow  were  melting  feebly  into  blackness 
on  the  London  streets. 

In  Miss  Evelyn's  room  the  fire  burned  brightly,  and 
as  usual  the  fragrance  of  hothouse  flowers  mingled  with 
the  faint  aroma  of  the  soothing  weed. 

"  I  expect  Mr.  Brentwood  this  afternoon,  Rose.  Just 
give  me  that  roll  of  paper  on  the  secretaire.  Bring 
coffee  by-and-bye.  I  am  not  at  home  to  anyone  else." 

Punctual  at  the  appointed  hour  Brentwood  arrived, 
looking  intensely  calm  and  self-possessed. 


HARLEY  BRENTWOOD.  303 

"Nervous,"  was  Miss  Evelyn's  mental  criticism  as 
she  regarded  him  placidly. 

"  Very  pleased  to  see  you,"  she  said.  "  Sit  down. 
Wretched  weather,  isn't  it? " 

"  Most  depressing." 

They  exchanged  a  few  more  platitudes,  and  then  she 
took  up  the  roll  of  manuscript.  "Well,  I  have  read 
your  play." 

He  smiled.  I  need  not  say  that  I  have  been  amazed 
at  my  own  audacity  in  troubling  you  with  it.  I  am 
immensely  obliged  to  you." 

"  You  had  better  postpone  all  that  till  you  hear  how 
crushing  I  can  be."  She  paused.  "  It  is  extraordinarily 
clever." 

He  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  though  of  course 
there  had  been  moments  when  he  had  thought  so  him- 
self. 

"  At  least  it  seems  so  to  me.  But  I  am  not  at  all 
clever  in  a  literary  way,  and  therefore  perhaps  I  am 
better  able  than  you  to  foretell  its  effect  on  the  British 
public." 

"  I  should  think  you  were !  " 

She  seemed  to  be  reflecting.  "  There  is  singularly 
little  action  in  it." 

"  Don't  you  think  we  have  had  rather  too  much  ac- 
tion of  late?" 

"Perhaps.  But  on  the  other  hand  we  are  not  quite 
ripe  for  a  play  which  demands  an  arm-chair,  strong 
coffee,  a  cigarette — and  an  encyclopedia  at  one's  elbow." 

Brentwood  laughed. 

"I  don't  possess  an  encyclopaedia,"  she  confessed; 
"  but  I  did  have  recourse  several  times  to  the  dictionary. 
On  the  other  hand  your  play  certainly  is  quite  unique. 
It  bristles  with  good  things — as  the  reviewers  say  of  the 
books  one  never  reads;  and  a  clever  woman  might  make 
some  splendid  points.  I  wonder  how  far  you  meant 
them?  I  should  like  to  know  where  you  yourself  would 
lay  special  stress.  A  play  like  that  should  be  underlined 
in  red  ink  here  and  there  for  the  guidance  of  uncul- 
tured actors ;  or  you  might  insert  '  sensation '  at  inter- 
vals, as  they  do  in  a  cause  celebre" 


304:  WINDYHAUGH. 

Brentwood  laughed  again  rather  more  noisily  than 
was  his  wont. 

She  held  out  the  manuscript.  "  Just  read  me  some 
of  your  favourite  passages,  will  you  ? " 

He  flushed  with  anticipation.  This  was  better  than 
underlining  in  red  ink. 

She  criticised  his  rendering  repeatedly,  and  they  had 
a  warm  combat  over  several  passages.  Some  of  her  sug- 
gestions, of  course,  struck  him  at  once  as  admirable,  but 
she  was  anxious  to  put  in  a  few  high  lights  and  deep 
shadows  that  from  his  point  of  view  would  have  spoilt 
the  chiaroscuro  of  the  whole  picture.  He  was  flattered, 
however,  to  find  that  she  had  such  strong  views.  What- 
ever she  might  say,  his  heroine  obviously  did  appeal 
to  her. 

"  It  certainly  is  interesting,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I 
think  the  chances  are  that  no  manager  would  produce  it, 
but  if  anyone  did — it  might  just  catch  on.  I  am  trying 
to  be  quite  candid." 

He  smiled.  "  I  hope  you  have  been  fairly  successful. 
I  am  sure  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you,"  he  added  as 
he  rose  to  go. 

She  looked  up  calmly.  "  I  know  very  well  how  you 
are  going  to  thank  me.  Sit  down,  please.  I  have  given 
you  of  my  best,  such  as  it  is.  Now  it  is  your  turn.  I 
want  news  of  Wilhelmina." 

"  Not  in  love  perhaps,"  was  her  mental  comment  a 
moment  later,  "  but  certainly  not  indiiferent." 

His  self-control  was  perfect,  however,  as  he  replied, 
"I  am  afraid  you  have  come  to  the  wrong  quarter  for 
that." 

"Not  really?" 

"  Really." 

"  Well,  in  case  of  need  it  is  useful  to  know  that  one 
can  conceal  oneself  so  easily." 

"  When  a  woman  strongly  states  her  wish  to  be  left 
alone  for  a  time,  concealment  is  excessively  easy — unless 
she  chances  to  be  dealing  with  a  brute !  " 

"  Short  of  being  a  brute  one  might  wish  to  know  how 
she  fared." 

"  Oh— I  am  told  she  fares  well." 


HARLEY  BRENTWOOD.  3Q5 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Brentwood,  I  am  very  fond  of  Wil- 
helmina." 

"  That  is  a  feeling  with  which  I  cannot  fail  to  sym- 
pathize." 

"  Pretty  hard  hit,"  she  reflected,  and  she  continued 
aloud — "  Of  course  I  have  no  conventional  views  on  the 
subject  of  the  marriage  relation.  I  don't  see  why  a  man 
and  woman  should  be  doomed,  as  so  many  are,  to  go  on 
perpetually — consuming  each  other's  souls." 

"  It  does  seem  an  unprofitable  form  of  spiritual  re- 
past." 

"  Will  you  give  me  Wilhelmina's  address  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  it." 

"  Good  heavens !     Do  you  know  what  she  is  doing  ?  " 

"  Teaching,  I  believe." 

"  Teaching !    And  is  that  your  idea  of  faring  well  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me.    It  is  a  question  of  her  idea,  not  mine." 

"  Has  she  anything  to  teach  ?  " 

For  the  first  time  the  shadow  of  a  smile  flickered  over 
his  face.  "  Not  too  much,  I  fancy." 

Miss  Evelyn  was  seized  with  a  brilliant  inspiration. 
"  I  do  wish  I  could  meet  her.  If  she  really  means  to 
live  her  own  life — and  you  have  no  objection  to  her  do- 
ing so — why  doesn't  she  go  on  the  stage?  She  would 
make  a  fascinating  ingenue,  and,  if  she  inherits  any 
reasonable  share  of  her  father's  gifts " 

Ah!  She  had  drawn  blood  that  time.  Harley  bit 
his  lip  hard.  It  was  almost  a  minute  before  he  could 
bring  himself  to  say  coldly — "  I  should  have  thought 
that  was  the  last  thing  for  which  she  was  qualified." 

"I  prefer  a  man's  judgment  to  a  woman's  any  day 
— except  on  the  subject  of  the  qualifications  of  his  wom- 
ankind." 

Brentwood  bowed. 

"  A  woman  judges  her  male  relatives  in  the  light  of 
the  great  world  and  its  interests:  the  male  relative 
judges  her  in  the  light  of  his  dinners  and  shirt-buttons." 

Brentwood  had  heard  something  of  this  kind  before. 

"  That  is  more  or  less  true,  and  not  altogether  un- 
natural, but  I  fail  to  see  its  relevance  to  the  present 


306  WINDYHAUGH. 

Miss  Evelyn's  temper  was  rising.  "You  mean  you 
have  not  had  much  opportunity  of  judging  Wilhelmina 
from  the  dinner  and  shirt-button  point  of  view  ?  " 

Brentwood  flinched.  Then  he  smiled.  "  I  admit  my 
indebtedness  to  the  full,"  he  said ;  "  but  don't  you  think 
you  have  had  your  pound  of  flesh  ?  " 

"It  is  flesh,  is  it?" 

"  That  I  can't  undertake  to  say." 

Miss  Evelyn  changed  the  line  of  attack.  "  She  was 
very  much  in  love  with  you." 

Curiously  enough  he  resented  this  on  Wilhelmina's 
account,  though  he  did  not  see  fit  to  question  it.  "  You 
choose  your  tense  with  discrimination." 

"  I  should  not  fancy  her  fickle." 

"No?  Yet  she  can't  help  being  her  father's  daugh- 
ter." 

Miss  Evelyn  raised  her  head  defiantly.  "  And  why 
should  she  help  it?  My  hope  is  that  she  will  show  her- 
self her  father's  daughter.  That  reminds  me — Mr.  Gal- 
braith  said  Macintyre  of  Queensmains  was  the  family 
man  of  business.  He  will  put  me  in  communication 
with  Wilhelmina.  I  will  write  to  him  at  once." 

Brentwood  lost  control  of  himself  for  a  moment.  "  I 
beg  you  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind ! " 

Miss  Evelyn  laughed.  "  Issue  your  orders  to  Wilhel- 
mina, if  you  please.  I  don't  acknowledge  the  jurisdic- 
tion." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  "  Good-bye,"  he  said  cheer- 
fully, with  a  change  of  tone  that  suggested  histrionic 
possibilities  to  her  professional  mind.  "  Many  thanks 
for  your  kind  help." 

She  relented  when  she  saw  the  pain  in  his  face.  "  If 
you  only  knew  it,  I  should  be  glad  to  help  you  in  another 
way.  I  think  this — misunderstanding  is  awfully  hard 
upon  you." 

There  was  a  dangerously  sympathetic  cadence  in  her 
voice,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  really  tempted.  Here 
was  a  woman  who  knew  the  world  as  it  is — a  kindly  tol- 
erant critic  before  whom  it  was  quite  unnecessary  to 
pose. 

Brentwood  drew  a  long  breath,  but,  with  the  reflec- 


HARLEY  BRENTWOOD.  307 

tion  that  Miss  Evelyn  had  not  many  ideals  to  lose,  came 
the  vague  echo  of  a  rumour  that  she  was  engaged  to 
Ronald  Dalrymple. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  he  said  cordially ;  "  but  do  we 
stand  in  need  of  help  ?  It  is  absurd  for  you  and  me  to 
assume  that  the  marriage  relation  is  a  uniformly  happy 
and  desirable  one.  Wilhelmina  and  I  have  muddled 
things,  of  course ;  but  at  least  we  have  no  cause  to  envy 
the  spiritual  cannibals  to  whom  you  referred  so  graphic- 
ally. We  are  not  occupied  in  consuming  each  other's 
souls." 

"  You  prefer  that  she  should  eat  her  own  heart 
out?" 

His  lip  curled.  "  Not  much  fear  of  that.  I  am  told 
she  is  well  and  happy." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Why,  Mr.  Brent- 
wood " 

A  knock  at  the  door.  "  If  you  please,  ma'am,  that 
is  Mr.  Ronald  Dalrymple." 

Miss  Evelyn  frowned.  "  All  right.  He  can  wait." 
She  turned  to  Brentwood  with  a  friendly  smile.  "  Con- 
found Mr.  Ronald  Dalrymple ! "  she  said  frankly. 

But  the  mention  of  the  name  was  enough.  "  I  fear 
I  have  outstayed  my  welcome,"  said  the  young  man  hur- 
riedly. "  Thank  you  a  thousand  times." 

A  minute  later  Ronald  was  ushered  in. 

"What  the  dickens  brings  that  fellow  here?"  he 
asked. 

Miss  Evelyn  glanced  up  with  languid  eyes.  "  What 
the  dickens  brings  this  fellow  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  come,  I  say,  Gertrude,  if  you  knew  how  I  have 
been  worrying  about  you,  you  wouldn't  be  down  on  a 
fellow  like  that !  " 

She  arched  her  fine  eyebrows.     "  No  ?  " 

"  I  came  up  to  see  my  lawyer.  Do  you  know,  if  I 
died  to-morrow  all  my  money  would  go  to  Fergus  and 
his  boys — most  of  it  to  Hugh  ?  " 

She  laughed  light-heartedly.  "  I  am  quite  prepared 
to  take  the  chance  of  your  dying,  Ronald.  You  don't 
look  at  all  like  it." 


308  WINDYHATJGH. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  so  sure.  I  have  been  riding  a  brute 
with  a  devil  of  a  temper." 

"  Why  will  you  be  so  silly?  "  she  said  fretfully.  "  I 
thought  you  had  more  sense."  If  he  had  not  rasped  her, 
she  would  have  begged  him  not  to  ride  the  brute  in 
question,  but  she  was  in  the  mood  in  which  we  see  the 
foibles  of  our  friends  through  the  cold  blue  glass  of  the 
intellect,  and  not  in  the  rosy  light  of  the  affections. 

"  And  how  is  Brentwood  ?  "  he  said. 

She  yawned.  "  Who  shall  find  a  virtuous  man,  for 
his  dulness  is  beyond  conception.  I  forgot — one  ought 
not  to  be  profane  with  you,  Ronald.  You  will  lay  the 
flattering  unction  to  your  soul  that  I  am  in  earnest." 

"  Is  Brentwood  virtuous  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  He  is  dull  enough,  and  prig- 
gish enough." 

"  Has  Wilhelmina  gone  back  to  him  ?  " 

"I  imagine  not,  but  as  you  broke  in  on  our  inter- 
view, you  can't  expect  me  to  give  you  much  informa- 
tion." 

"Did  I  really?  I  told  her  not  to  announce  me." 
His  voice  softened.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  really 
sent  him  away  for  me  ? " 

She  was  not  dishonest  enough  to  insist  on  the  point. 
"  Mr.  Brentwood  is  never  expansive,"  she  said. 

"  I  thought  you  would  draw  him  if  anyone  could." 

"  So  I  did  in  a  sense.  Oh,  I  know  the  whole  story  as 
well  as  if  he  had  told  me,  and,  as  he  gave  me  no  confi- 
dence, I  have  none  to  keep.  Wilhelmina  was  the  one 
who  kissed:  he  bent  his  cheek."  Miss  Evelyn  had  no 
wish  to  touch  on  George  Galbraith's  part  in  the  pro- 
gramme. "  I  never  quite  believed  that  the  marriage 
would  come  off,  but  apparently  she  found  him  out  too 
late." 

"  Found  out  what  ? — that  there  was  another  girl  ?  " 

She  sighed.  "  How  crude  you  are,  Ronald !  Mr. 
Brentwood  thinks  my  intellectual  retina  is  not  sensitive 
to  subtle  lights  and  shades.  I  wonder  what  he  would 
think  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say  is — if  there  wasn't  another  girl 
— -it  is  confoundedly  awkward  for  him." 


HARLEY  BRENTWOOD.  309 

"  It  is  rather." 

"  I  can't  make  it  out.  She  never  struck  me  as  that 
sort  of  girl.  Enid  is  racy  on  the  subject.  Thanks  the 
guiding  hand  that  warned  her  to  leave  the  child  alone. 
Always  felt  in  her  bones  that  the  filly  would  come  to  no 
good.  Says  it's  the  Galbraith  blood." 

Miss  Evelyn  bent  over  the  fire.  "  She  is  right,  of 
course.  It  is  the  Galbraith  blood,  though  not  in  the 
sense  she  means.  It  was  a  stroke  of  genius  on  Wilhel- 
mina's  part  to  leave  him.  She  forced  him  to  recognize 
her  once  for  all  as  a  personality." 

Eonald  stared.  "  And  was  Brentwood  never  in  love 
at  all?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes.  You  know  what  a  man's  love  is 
worth.  He  is  a  little  bit  in  love  still." 

"  Then  why  the  mischief  doesn't  he  just  trot  her 
back?" 

Miss  Evelyn  turned  on  him  sharply.  "  Because  he 
doesn't  happen  to  be  either  a  fool  or  a  brute!  When 
you  talk  like  that,  you  make  me  feel  that  God  made  a 
few  men  and  left  the  devil  to  produce  the  rest." 

"  Good  Lord,  Gertrude !  what  have  I  said  now  ?  " 

She  laughed.  "Poor  boy!  What  a  life  I  do  lead 
him !  Brentwood  doesn't  '  trot  her  back,'  as  you  poetic- 
ally phrase  it,  for  two  reasons.  First,  because  she  has 
asked  to  be  let  alone,  and  he  is  a  chivalrous  fool." 
There  was  a  little  inconsistency  here,  of  which  Ronald 
was  dimly  conscious.  "  Secondly — well,  I  haven't  seen 
Wilhelmina  yet,  so  I  don't  know  how  much  it  would 
take  to  make  her  go  back,  but  I  fancy  it  would  take  a 
good  deal.  She  is  still  in  love,  of  course,  but  she  has 
been  taken  in  by  the  guinea  stamp  once,  and  she  will 
need  the  genuine  article  next  time.  In  other  words, 
Brentwood  will  have  to  'weep,  to  fight,  to  fast,  to  tear 
himself.'  He  would  like  to  have  her  back,  if  he  could 
have  her  without  much  fuss,  but  he  is  not  prepared  to 
1  drink  up  eisel,  eat  a  crocodile.'  See  ?  " 

Ronald  nodded  doubtfully,  and  changed  the  subject. 
"  Hugh  pointed  out  Miss  Brentwood  to  me  the  other 
night.  What  a  stunning  girl  she  is! — reminds  one  of 
Helen  of  Troy,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing." 


310  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Yes,  as  her  brother  says,  she  is  the  kind  of  woman 
who  has  never  gone  out  of  fashion.  That  type  has  no 
limitations  of  space  and  time.  One  cannot  imagine  her 
out  of  place  anywhere — except  perhaps  at  the  court  of 
Louis  XV.  She  links  the  ages,  so  to  speak." 

"  If  Brentwood  often  talks  about  his  sister  like  that, 
I  don't  wonder  Wilhelmina  left  him." 

Miss  Evelyn  laughed  merrily.  "  Well  done,  Ronald ! 
In  point  of  fact  I  believe  Vilma  adores  Miss  Brent- 
wood.  Do  you  go  down  to-morrow  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  have  told  Aitchison  what  I  want.  He  is  to 
whip  the  thing  into  shape,  and  bring  it  down  for  me  to 
sign.  Fergus  is  abroad  just  now,  but  he  likes  Aitchison 
to  have  a  day  with  the  hounds  now  and  then.  Oh,  by 
the  way,  Enid  wants  you  to  come  down  for  a  week  be- 
fore the  hunting  is  over.  She  will  write  to  you  herself." 

The  last  vestige  of  a  cloud  vanished  from  Miss  Eve- 
lyn's face.  "  Come,  it  was  good  of  you  to  engineer  that, 
and  it  can't  have  been  easy." 

"  Oh,  well,  you  see  she  is  a  capital  sort,  but  she  is  a 
bit  conservative  and  conventional." 

Miss  Evelyn  nodded.  "I  quite  understand.  You 
have  got  me  the  invitation.  It  is  my  look-out  now. 
Have  a  cigarette  ?  " 

When  Brentwood  went  home  that  evening,  he  felt 
that  he  had  behaved  like  a  churl  to  a  delightful  woman, 
and  he  wrote  a  pretty  note  to  thank  Miss  Evelyn  again 
for  all  her  kindness.  He  congratulated  her,  too,  on  her 
engagement.  "  I  have  no  doubt  Mr.  Dalrymple  quite 
appreciates  his  good  fortune,  and  will  realize  that  it  is 
too  late  for  any  one  man  to  monopolize  the  resources  of 
the  woman  whose  art  has  been  an  education  and  a  joy  to 
so  many." 

He  was  quite  honest — even  selfishly  honest — in  say- 
ing this.  Miss  Evelyn's  acting  appealed  to  him  strong- 
ly, and  he  had  half  hoped  that  she  might  be  tempted  to 
take  the  part  of  his  heroine.  His  interest  in  that  play 
of  his  was  almost  crucial.  It  was  the  first  bit  of  live 
work  that  he  had  done  for  six  months,  and  it  had  sprung 
into  life  and  form  so  quickly,  so  spontaneously,  that  in 


HARLEY  BRENT  WOOD.  311 

his  heart  of  hearts  he  took  no  credit  for  it  at  all.  But 
the  writing  of  it  had  given  him  a  fresh  lease  of  vitality, 
and  if  it  should  prove  a  success,  he  felt  as  if  there  mi^ht 
be  a  chance  for  him  still.  Of  course,  in  his  letter  he  did 
not  refer  again  to  his  own  private  affairs.  Was  he  not 
thankful  to  have  escaped  the  day  before  by  the  skin  of 
his  teeth? 

And  after  all,  how  little  he  had  to  tell!  The  news 
of  Wilhelmina's  flight  had  filled  him  for  the  moment 
with  the  hope  that  he  really  was  in  love,  but  swift  upon 
this  came  Mr.  Carmichael's  intelligence  that  she  was 
independent  and  happy  (I  am  afraid  the  old  Adam  in 
Mr.  Carmichael  made  the  most  of  that  happiness  and 
independence),  and  then  Harley  realized  that  his  docile 
little  Wilhelmina  had  made  him  ridiculous  in  the  eyes 
of  his  fellow-men.  This  is  an  injury  difficult  to  forgive 
under  any  circumstances,  and  forgiveness  is  not  ren- 
dered easier  by  the  fact  that  a  woman  has  contrived  to 
inflict  the  injury  without  so  much  as  soiling  her  own 
white  robes  in  the  process.  The  only  atonement  Wil- 
helmina could  have  made  was  to  starve,  or  break  her 
heart,  and  apparently  she  showed  no  inclination  to  do 
either. 

Worse,  too,  than  making  him  ridiculous  in  the  eyes 
of  others,  she  had  made  him  ridiculous  in  his  own;  for, 
viewed  in  the  light  of  subsequent  events,  how  feeble 
and  melodramatic  seemed  the  anguish  he  had  under- 
gone during  the  weeks  that  preceded  his  wedding! 
Brentwood  had  always  been  advanced  and  chivalrous  in 
his  views  of  women;  in  his  future  relations  with  them 
he  had  justly  pictured  himself  as  acting  with  fine  moral 
virility:  but  now  he  was  painfully  conscious  of  the 
sheer  brute  desire  to  conquer  a  woman  by  force.  He 
was  too  angry  to  think  of  gentler  wooing. 

And  indeed  one  is  forced  to  reflect  how  impossible  it 
is  to  reckon  on  any  woman!  If  Brentwood  had  been 
false  to  his  troth,  what  surety  had  he  that  Wilhelmina 
would  not  pine  away  and  die?  But,  because  he  had 
been  true,  she  had  thrust  him  into  a  position  in  which 
no  ordinary  moral  compass  was  of  any  avail.  In  her 
impulsive  woman  fashion,  she  had  acted  with  a  dash  of 


312  WINDYHAUGH. 

the  heroic,  and  he  was  quite  disposed  to  pay  her  back 
in  her  own  coin;  but  she  had  acted  so  that  no  heroic 
revenge  on  his  side  was  possible. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  his  life  had  been  a  mistake  and 
a  failure  from  the  day  he  saw  her  springing  like  a 
kitten  at  her  father's  book;  and  yet  he  would  have 
been  the  first  to  admit  that  she  had  done  nothing  wrong. 
That  was  the  maddening  part  of  it.  His  sister,  Mr.  Car- 
michael,  and  Miss  Evelyn  were  perfectly  right  when 
they  said  she  was  too  good  for  him,  and  yet  no  unbiassed 
observer  could  deny  that  she  and  the  fates  between  them 
had  treated  him  most  cruelly. 

Miss  Evelyn  was  pleased  and  disappointed  when  she 
read  the  letter.  She  did  want  to  play  Providence  to 
Brentwood  and  Wilhelmina. 

"  That  delightful  moody  heroine  of  yours — Hagar,  I 
mean,  not  Wilhelmina — has  taken  an  extraordinary  grip 
of  me,"  she  wrote.  "  I  was  actually  thinking  in  the 
watches  of  the  night  how  much  might  be  made  of  her. 
Why  did  you  not  create  her  a  year  ago?  I  am  bidding 
farewell  for  the  present  to  the  scene  of  my  labours,  and 
I  assure  you  it  is  no  small  sacrifice.  If  the  nostalgia 
becomes  unendurable,  I  shall  take  a  leaf  from  Wilhel- 
mina's  book.  I  trust  Ronald  may  be  induced  to  take 
one  from  somebody  else's." 

Honor,  sitting  opposite  to  her  brother  at  the  break- 
fast table,  did  not  fail  to  note  the  lights  and  shadows 
that  drifted  across  his  face  as  he  read  the  letter  in  what 
Mr.  Galbraith  had  once  happily  termed  the  "  bold  bad 
black  handwriting  " ;  but  she  asked  no  questions.  That 
confidence  between  brother  and  sister  was  less  perfect 
than  formerly.  Harley  laid  down  the  letter  and  took 
up  his  Standard  without  a  word.  "  How  can  she  marry 
a  man  like  that  ?  "  he  thought, 

"  '  Finished  and  finite  clod,  untroubled  by  a  spark.'  " 

It  seemed  an  odd  coincidence  that  at  that  moment 
his  eye,  sweeping  over  the  columns,  caught  the  name 
Dalrymple.  It  was  a  common  enough  name,  of  course, 
and  yet  something  prompted  Harley  to  return  and  look 


WILHELMINA'S  DREAM.  313 

for  it.     Ah,  here  it  was !     "  Mr.  Ronald  Dalrymple,"  too. 
"Death  in  the  hunting  field." 

"  Good  God,  Honor !  "  he  cried.    He  felt  almost  as  if 
he  had  committed  a  murder. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 


THERE  was  a  pleasant  buzz  of  activity  in  the  chem- 
ical laboratory. 

The  students  had  worked  steadily  during  term,  but 
now  the  excitement  of  examinations  and  holidays  was 
in  the  air,  and  an  undercurrent  of  conversation  accom- 
panied the  work.  Many  a  time  in  the  winter  evenings 
that  warm  bright  room  had  been  a  haven  of  comfort 
and  peace :  now  the  level  rays  of  the  sun  threw  its  shab- 
biness  and  grime  into  strong  relief,  and  reminded  one 
that,  far  away,  fields  were  green  and  flowers  were  blow- 
ing, and  cool  waves  breaking  on  the  sandy  beach. 

There  was  the  usual  succession  of  minor  incidents  to 
break  the  monotony  of  the  proceedings.  From  time  to 
time  a  test-tube  cracked,  and  a  stream  of  mordant  liquid 
contributed  its  share  to  the  mellowing  of  those  stained, 
charred,  whittled  tables ;  or  the  fumes  of  bromine  called 
forth  an  indignant  protest  from  those  who  were  not 
responsible  for  their  production ;  or  "  strong  sulphuric 
and  heat,"  added  to  some  unknown  factor  in  the  test- 
tube,  caused  an  explosion  that  sent  the  rash  experimen- 
ter in  haste  and  perturbation  to  the  water-tap. 

Socially,  the  class  was  a  curious  mixture — more  so, 
perhaps,  than  any  other  in  the  place.  The  rising  me- 
chanic, for  whose  benefit  the  institute  had  been  primar- 
ily founded,  was  there  of  course;  the  lad  whose  school 
curriculum  was  wanting  in  just  those  subjects  for  which 
he  had  a  natural  aptitude;  the  struggling  teacher  who 
burned  to  add  the  magic  letters  B.  A.  or  B.  Sc.  to  his 
name ;  and  the  medical  student  who  had  failed  in  Chem- 


314:  WINDYHAUGH. 

istry,  and  who  was  glad  to  rub  up  his  ignorance  at  the 
cost  of  a  few  shillings. 

Wilhelmina  was  working  in  a  quiet  corner,  working 
neatly  and  economically  as  some  girls  do.  She  was  so 
much  at  home  in  the  laboratory  now  that  it  was  difficult 
even  to  recall  the  evening  when  she  had  first  crept  up 
the  dreary  stair  with  beating  heart,  fearing  she  knew  not 
what.  She  had  found  to  her  dismay  that  she  was  the 
only  woman  in  the  class,  and  had  suffered  agonies,  not 
so  much  of  shyness,  as  of  dread  lest  the  men  should  re- 
sent her  presence  there.  She  had  not  ventured  to  look 
at  them,  and  so  was  happily  unconscious  of  the  extent 
to  which  they  looked  at  her.  When  a  handsome  lad 
offered  to  wash  her  test-tubes,  the  rush  of  surprise  ac- 
tually made  the  tears  start — poor  Wilhelmina ! — and  she 
accepted  the  offer  just  for  once — the  water-tap  did  seem 
so  very  far  away !  Then  a  young  mechanic  from  Glas- 
gow laid  an  honest  grimy  paw  on  her  note-book.  "  What 
did  you  pay  for  that  ? "  he  asked  simply.  "  Fourpence- 
half penny,"  she  had  replied  with  beaming  face;  and  the 
barrier  thus  broken  down,  she  was  soon  on  terms  of  po- 
tential camaraderie  with  every  man  in  the  class.  It  was 
a  fine  initiation  into  practical  socialism.  The  conscious- 
ness that  she  was  not  in  the  marriage  market  gave  her 
manner  an  ease  and  repose  that  was  very  unusual  in  so 
young  a  girl.  She  never  again  allowed  anyone  to  wash 
her  test-tubes  for  her;  by  degrees  she  took  her  place, 
assumed  her  rights  as  a  student,  with  a  simplicity  that 
went  as  far  as  anything  could  to  make  the  men  forget 
the  difference  of  her  sex. 

Many  happy  hours  she  had  spent  in  that  dusty  lab- 
oratory ;  but  to-night  the  summer  had  got  into  her  blood, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  months  she  was  seized  with  a 
great  longing  for  Windyhaugh.  How  cool  the  shade  of 
the  limes  must  be! — how  fresh  the  breezes! — how  fra- 
grant the  hay-ricks !  Heigho !  " 

"  May  I  walk  home  with  you,  Miss  Galbraith  ?  "  said 
a  deformed  intellectual-looking  lad  as  she  ran  down- 
stairs. 

"  Not  to-night,  thank  you,  Mr.  Dunn.  I  am  going 
on'  the  top  of  the  'bus  to  Kensington  Church." 


WILHELMINA'S  DREAM.  315 

"  That's  right !  I  wish  I  could  come  too."  He  hesi- 
tated; but  his  examination  was  imminent,  and  a  four- 
penny  'bus-ride  was  extravagant! 

Wilhelmina  walked  to  Gower  Street  station  and  took 
her  place  in  the  front  seat  of  the  omnibus  with  a  long 
sigh  of  anticipation.  This  was  not  Windyhaugh,  but  it 
was  something.  The  city  was  sultry  and  airless,  and 
among  her  fellow-passengers  were  a  number  of  bleached 
weary  workers — dressmakers,  clerks,  shop-hands,  and  the 
like.  A  royal  boon  to  the  over-wrought  is  that  ride  to 
Kensington  Church!  It  lifts  them  just  a  little  way 
above  the  dust  and  the  hubbub,  the  sameness  of  their 
daily  life ;  gives  them  a  glimpse  of  trees  and  shrubs  and 
restful  greensward;  and  as  they  leave  the  densest  traffic 
behind,  they  meet  the  gay  procession  bowling  cityward, 
they  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  pinnacles  and  minarets  of 
the  great  social  edifice,  they  coast  with  eager  eyes  along 
the  margin  of  another  world. 

On  the  homeward  journey  a  young  man  took  the  va- 
cant place  beside  Wilhelmina.  As  he  seated  himself,  he 
glanced  pointedly  under  the  brim  of  her  hat,  and  she 
proceeded  to  turn  on  him  the  languid,  icy,  unseeing 
glance  which  had  proved  her  best  weapon  in  such  cir- 
cumstances. But  a  moment  later  she  held  out  her  hand. 
"  Good-evening,  Hugh,"  she  said. 

He  was  greatly  surprised,  and  seemed  more  con- 
fused than  the  occasion  warranted.  "  Vilma ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

Neither  found  it  very  easy  to  proceed. 

"  I  am  awfully  glad  to  meet  you,"  he  said  at  last. 

This  was  more  than  she  could  honestly  reciprocate. 
His  jaded  young  face  was  not  attractive. 

"  We  can't  talk  here,"  he  continued.  "  Do  you  mind 
coming  in  a  hansom  instead  ? " 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  not  have  a  hansom ;  but  if 
you  care  to  walk  home  with  me " 

He  nodded,  and  helped  her  down  from  the  'bus  with 
the  exaggerated  courtesy  that  appeals  so  strongly  to 
women.  "You  have  no  idea  how  often  I  wanted  to 
meet  you." 

"  I  wonder  why." 
21 


316  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Oh,  so  many  things  have  happened  since  we  met. 
You  know" — he  became  almost  shy  as  they  approached 
the  delicate  subject — "I  backed  you  up  all  along  the 
line." 

She  smiled  a  little  bitterly.  The  friends  who  are 
eager  to  tell  us  of  their  championship  forget  sometimes 
that,  unless  we  value  their  judgment  very  highly,  our 
appreciation  may  not  be  sufficient  to  compensate  for  the 
reminder  that  we  stood  in  need  of  such  aid. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  found  your  work  cut  out  for  you," 
she  said. 

"  Oh,  well,  you  know  what  the  Mater  is.  I  told  her 
I  wished  I  had  had  the  sense  and  gumption  to  marry 
you  myself." 

Wilhelmina  broke  into  a  pleasant  laugh.  "  Oh,  no, 
Hugh,"  she  cried,  mindful  of  the  Autocrat,  and  thank- 
ful to  relax  the  tension  of  the  situation.  "  Think  of  all 
the  nice  girls  who  would  have  drowned  themselves  if 
you  had ! " 

"  That's  just  it."  He  laughed  with  the  uneasy  feel- 
ing of  a  man  who  feels  himself  overweighted  by  the 
woman  he  is  talking  to.  "  Oh,  of  course  I  know  you 
wouldn't  have  had  a  word  to  say  to  me,  but  at  least  I 
am  not  a  prig." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Wilhelmina  thoughtfully, 
"  that  I  like  prigs." 

"  Then  I  should  have  thought " 

But  she  could  not  allow  this.  "How  warm  it  has 
been  to-day !  "  she  said. 

"Yes.  One  begins  to  think  of  the  moors.  Where 
are  you  staying,  Vilma  ? " 

"  I  am  in  a  flat  with  a  friend." 

"Doing  London?" 

"JSTo."  She  blushed  as  if  she  were  owning  to  a 
crime.  "I  am  studying — attending  classes." 

He  looked  at  her  almost  incredulously.  "I  suppose 
you  enjoy  that  kind  of  thing? " 

"  Immensely.  It  seems  too  good  to  be  true  that  I  am 
free  to  study,  and  learn  as  much  as  ever  I  can.  I  was — 
am — so  frightfully  ignorant,  Hugh." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  reflecting  her 


WILHELMINA'S  DREAM.  317 

manner  of  a  minute  before,  "  that  I  like  ignorant 
women." 

She  laughed.  "  I  know.  Yes,  I  quite  see  that  point 
of  view.  One  half  of  me  hates  the  thought  of  trying 
to  be  a  learned  woman,  but  the  other  half  does  so  want 
to  grow ! " 

"  And  what  does  Uncle  George  say  to  it  all  ?  " 

She  hesitated.  "  He  was  distressed  and  uneasy  at 
first,  but  he  can't  help  seeing  that  I  have  got  the  thing 
I  want." 

"  Poor  little  Vilma !  You  have  seen  so  little  of  life. 
You  didn't  know  what  love  meant." 

"  And  then  of  course  he  can't  worry  when  he  knows 
I  have  good  friends." 

"  Have  you  good  friends  ?  " 

Her  face  glowed.    "  Oh,  one  or  two  splendid  friends." 

He  wondered  what  would  happen  when  she  fell  in 
love  really.  He  longed  to  ask  next  what  Brentwood  said 
to  it  all,  but  he  did  not  dare. 

"  And  now,"  she  said,  "  I  am  hungering  to  hear  about 
you.  I  saw  Aunt  Enid  in  the  Park  one  day,  looking 
lovely.  Are  you  all  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  think  so.  Of  course  Eonald's  death  was  an 
awful  shock  to  us  all." 

"Ronald's  death!" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  hadn't  heard  of  it  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word.     Oh,  Hugh,  how  terrible !  " 

"It  was  so  frightfully  sudden,  too.  There  was  a 
horse  in  the  stables  that  the  governor  wouldn't  let  any- 
one ride  except  himself.  But  the  governor  went  over  to 
Germany  for  a  few  days,  and  then  Ronald  would  ride 
him,  and  he  was  thrown."  Hugh's  lips  quivered.  "  It 
was  just  ghastly,  Vilma — the  whole  thing  from  first  to 
last !  And  father  being  away,  I  was  nearest  male  rela- 
tive. You've  no  notion  what  it  means  to  be  nearest 
male  relative  at  such  times." 

"  Was  he — conscious  ?  " 

"Not  properly — no.  The  Mater  would  send  for  a 
clergyman:  women  are  like  that:  and  she  flatters  her- 
self   But  I  don't  believe  he  heard  a  word  the  fellow 

said."  Hugh  gulped  down  a  sob. 


318  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  How  terrible !  "  said  Wilhelmina  again. 

"  It  is  an  awful  shock  to  Gertrude  too." 

"  Miss  Evelyn  ? — Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"  Of  course  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  she  was  just 
gone  on  him,  but  he  was  awfully  good  to  her.  He  was 
making  a  will  in  her  favour,  but  it  is  just  so  much  waste 
paper.  However,  I'll  take  care  that  she  doesn't  lose 
it  all." 

"  Yes,  do,  Hugh.     That  is  good  of  you." 

"  I  suppose  she  will  go  back  to  the  stage  after  a  bit. 
By  the  way,  she  is  very  anxious  to  see  you." 

"  Is  she  ?  She  has  always  been  very  kind  to  me.  I 
will  go  before  I  leave  town.  Poor  Miss  Evelyn ! " 

Hugh's  thoughts  were  evidently  wandering.  "  If 
there's  any  life  at  all  beyond  the  grave,"  he  broke  forth 
impulsively  at  last,  "  I  suppose  you  think  it  is  a  poor 
look-out  for  him.  You  know,  Vilma,  he  was  awfully 
kind.  Lots  of  pious  people  aren't  half  so  kind  as  he 
was." 

She  did  not  answer  immediately.  She  was  touched 
to  see  this  precocious  man  of  the  world  show  so  much 
genuine  feeling.  "  Surely,  surely,"  she  said  at  last, 
"  God  will  give  him  another  chance !  " 

Hugh's  face  brightened.  "  Do  you  really  think  so, 
Vilma?  You  wouldn't  have  said  that  once.  You  were 
awfully  religious." 

"  Indeed,  Hugh,  I  don't  mean  to  be  less  religious 
now,  but  I  have  come  to  see  things  differently." 

"  What  made  you  do  that  ? "  he  asked  eagerly.  He 
had  taken  a  genuine,  if  fitful,  interest  in  religion  since 
his  uncle's  death. 

"  I  think  the  beginning  of  it  was  that  in  books  and  in 
life  I  saw  people  living  good  lives  without  believing  the 
doctrines  I  had  thought  to  be  the  foundation  of  a  good 
life.  I  tried  at  first  to  persuade  myself  that  they  were 
not  really  good,  but  that  was  barren  work,  as  Mr.  Car- 
michael  would  say.  My  heart  was  at  rest  when  I  gave 
up  that  attempt,  but  my  mind  wasn't  content  to  stop 
there.  '  Is  the  doctrine  essential  then  ? '  it  asked ;  and 
then,  '  Is  the  doctrine  true  ? ' 

"  So  by  degrees  I  began  to  look  at  the  different  doc- 


WILHELMINA'S  DKEAM.  319 

trines  as  I  had  never  done  before,  and  a  thousand  things 
I  had  read  in  Carlyle  came  back  to  my  mind.  I  thought, 
too,  of  a  poem  Mr.  Carmichael  is  very  fond  of — 

"  '  Who  fathoms  the  eternal  thought? 

Who  talks  of  scheme  and  plan  ? 
The  Lord  is  God  !    He  needeth  not 
The  poor  device  of  man.' 

I  read  a  great  deal,  and  especially  I  read  the  Bible " 

"  Why,  Vilma,  you  knew  it  by  heart  when  you  were 
a  baby." 

"  Many  of  the  finest  passages  were  terribly  familiar. 
I  had  to  read  them  over  and  over  again  before  I  could 
look  at  them  with  any  freshness  at  all." 

"  I  am  afraid  all  the  reading  in  the  world  wouldn't 
get  rid  of  the  fire  and  brimstone  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  and  presently  she  stopped  in 
front  of  a  block  of  respectable  workmen's  houses.  "  This 
is  where  I  live." 

Hugh  tried  to  conceal  his  surprise.  "  May  I  come 
up  with  you  ? "  he  said.  "  It  is  so  awfully  nice  to  meet 
you  again."  As  a  rule  he  was  ill  at  ease  with  virtuous 
women,  but  Wilhelmina's  somewhat  anomalous  position 
appealed  to  him. 

She  nodded,  and  led  the  way  to  a  room  on  the  third 
floor.  It  was  freshly  papered  and  painted,  and  very 
bright  with  hardy  plants  and  flowers. 

"  Well,  you  do  keep  it  nice !  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  smiled.  "I'm  so  glad  you  think  so.  I  am 
dreadfully  lazy  about  such  things;  so  I  keep  reminding 
myself  that  my  father  may  drop  in  any  day.  He  likes 
pretty  things,  and  at  Covent  Garden  the  plants  and  cut- 
tings cost  almost  nothing.  Ann  sent  me  the  rugs  from 
Windyhaugh,  and  I  stained  the  floor  myself." 

"  What  a  lot  of  books  you  have  got !  I  suppose  you 
want  to  be  at  them.  I  shan't  stay  long.  I  want  to  hear 
what  you  found  in  the  Bible." 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  struck  by  his 
recurrence  to  the  subject.  It  was  an  extraordinarily 
novel  experience  to  meet  Hugh  Dalrymple,  so  to  speak, 
on  a  spiritual  plane.  Like  one  who  encounters  a  home 


320  WINDYHAUGH. 

friend  in  a  far  country,  Wilhelmina  was  moved  to  treat 
him  with  all  the  hospitality  her  soul  could  provide. 

"You  are  quite  right,  Hugh.  There  was  no  getting 
rid  of  the  fire."  She  drew  a  long  breath  and  her  face 
grew  pale.  "  I  wonder  if  I  could  tell  you  a  dream  I 
had  when  I  was  a  child.  I  have  never  told  anyone  be- 
fore. You  know  I  used  to  suffer  terribly  with  thoughts 
of  hell.  Do  you  remember  the  picture  in  Peep  of  Day 
of  the  lake  of  fire  ?  Well,  one  night  I  dreamt  I  was  out 
walking  with  my  grandmother,  feeling  very  unhappy, 
and  away  in  front  of  us  we  saw  a  mass  of  flame  rising 
from  the  ground.  '  Is  that  hell?'  I  asked.  'No,'  she 
said, '  but  those  who  go  to  heaven  must  first  pass  through 
the  fire.'  In  a  moment  I  had  left  her  side  and  was  run- 
ning towards  the  glare  as  if  I  had  wings  to  my  feet.  I 
found  the  flames  rose  from  a  great  square  space  built 
into  the  ground.  They  did  not  fill  the  space.  There 
was  a  wide,  clear  passage  round  about,  the  outer  half 
of  which  was  divided  by  partitions  like  a  stable  with 
its  stalls.  In  most  of  these  stalls  a  man  or  woman  was 
sitting,  and  I  took  my  place  in  a  vacant  one  without  a 
word.  I  was  wondering — wondering — what  was  going 
to  happen.  Presently" — her  voice  shook  and  she  lost 
her  self-control  for  a  moment — "  Christ  came  round.  I 
suppose  He  was  just  the  Jesus  of  my  picture-books,  but 
His  face  and  form  have  grown  with  my  growth,  till  now 
I  see  Him  as  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  the  Light  of  the 
World.  He  held  in  His  hand  an  unlighted  torch,  and, 
when  He  came  to  me,  He  lighted  it  at  the  great  fire, 
and  held  out  His  other  hand  for  mine.  Of  course  I 
gave  it  in  a  moment — I  never  could  '  believe '  in  my 
waking  hours,  but  how  I  trusted  Him  then! — and,  tak- 
ing it  in  His,  He  passed  the  torch  slowly  across  the 
palm.  *  Is  that  all  ? '  I  cried,  and  the  rush  of  surprise 
was  so  great  that  I  awoke." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Vilma,  did  you  really  dream  that  ? " 
She  nodded,  striving  to  blink  away  the  tears. 
"  Then  I  suppose  you  didn't  suffer  any  more  ? " 
"I  wish  I  could  say  so.     It  did  calm  me  a  bit,  but 
the  teaching  of  my  childhood  was  too  deeply  ingrained 
for  that.     The  dream  impressed  me  so  much  that  I  tried 


WILHELMINA'S  DREAM.  321 

and  tried  to  make  it  fit  the  creed  I  had  been  taught,  but 
I  couldn't.  Oh,  Hugh,  if  you  think  of  it — how  could  a 
child  appreciate  a  dream  like  that?  Of  course  it  was 
only  a  dream.  All  the  queer  little  jumbled  atoms  just 
chanced  to  make  a  picture  for  once.  But  it  was  the  one 
dream  of  my  life.  I  have  never  had  another  that  I 
would  place  beside  it  for  a  moment."  She  laughed 
apologetically.  "  I  keep  it  in  a  chapel  by  itself." 

Hugh  did  not  answer.  The  room  was  growing  dark, 
and  he  felt  the  atmosphere  of  the  story  intensely,  but 
he  wished  Wilhelmina  would  be  a  little  more  explicit. 
When  he  spoke  his  words  were  disappointing. 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say  is  that  if  hell  isn't  in  the  Bible 
— the  real  genuine  article,  I  mean — the  priests  have  a 
deal  to  answer  for." 

"  I  felt  that  too.  For  a  time  I  felt  dreadfully  bitter 
— I  sometimes  feel  bitter  yet;  but  we  had  to  make  mis- 
takes, Hugh,  and  God  was  over  all." 

He  glanced  round  the  room.  "You  do  a  deal  of 
thinking  here,  Vilma." 

She  nodded. 

"  Don't  overdo  it.     You  don't  grow  fat  on  it." 

"I  am  going  to  Bournemouth  for  two  months.  I 
shall  grow  fat  there." 

"Who  is  taking  you?" 

"  I  am  taking  two  little  girls — former  pupils  of  mine. 
Their  father  is  going  to  Switzerland." 

"  May  I  look  in  again  soon  ?  " 

"  Do." 

"I'll  bring  Gavin  some  evening." 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  to  see  Gavin  again,  but — would 
Aunt  Enid  like  it?" 

Hugh  shouted.  "  If  he  goes  to  no  worse  place  that 
his  mother  doesn't  approve,  he'll  do!  But  he  is  a  vast 
improvement  on  me,  Gavin  is.  You  see,  he  fell  in  love 
young,  and  sticks  to  it,  though  the  girl  doesn't  care  a 
straw  for  him  so  far,  and  her  father  wants  her  to  marry 
money.  It's  an  awful  curse  to  be  in  love  with  the  whole 
sex,  as  I  am.  Good-night,  little  coz ! " 

He  stopped  to  speak  to  a  pretty  girl  on  the  stair,  and 
after  strolling  about  the  streets  for  a  time,  ended  the 


322  WINDYHAUGH. 

evening  in  a  music-hall.  Wilhelmina  would  have  been 
sadly  disappointed,  had  she  known,  but  the  reader  will 
be  more  tolerant,  recognizing  how  rarefied  the  air  can 
be  in  a  block  of  workmen's  houses ! 

"  How  could  I  tell  him  my  dream  ?  "  Wilhelmina  was 
saying  to  herself  reproachfully.  That  dream  had  be- 
come the  symbol  of  her  whole  spiritual  life,  and  she 
thought  in  her  simplicity  that  others  must  see  as  much 
in  it  as  she  did. 

The  Quakeress  broke  in  on  her  musings.  "  Are  you. 
never  coming  to  supper  ? "  she  asked  in  a  resigned  weary 
voice.  She  had  been  working  at  quadratic  equations  in- 
stead of  driving  to  Kensington  Church  on  the  top  of 
the  'bus. 

"  I  quite  forgot.  Why  did  you  wait  for  me  ?  " 
"  How  could  I  tell  that  your  visitor  would  stay  so 
long  ?  Was  it  Mr.  Dunn  again  ?  "  she  continued  coldly. 
"  Oh,  dear,  no.  It  was  one  of  my  cousins." 
Mr.  Dunn  was  the  deformed  student  at  the  Institute 
with  whom  Wilhelmina  had  struck  up  a  Platonic  friend- 
ship. He  was  a  bit  of  a  free-thinker,  and  it  was  partly 
in  the  effort  to  drag  him  in  to  shore  that  she  had  felt 
the  sand  yielding  beneath  her  own  feet.  They  lent  each 
other  books  and  had  great  discussions  over  them,  much 
to  the  distress  of  the  quakeress.  At  first  she  had  pleaded 
with  Wilhelmina  in  a  spirit  of  sweet  reasonableness ;  but 
hot  summer  days  in  London — days  crammed  to  the  brim 
with  intellectual  work  and  competition — are  apt  to 
knock  a  little  of  the  bloom  off  the  most  consistent  Chris- 
tian. Wilhelmina,  on  the  other  hand,  was  just  at  the 
stage  when  intelligent  youth  is  most  intolerable  to  those 
who  disagree  with  its  opinions.  She  talked  more  about 
logic  than  her  limited  stock  of  the  commodity  strictly 
justified,  and  when  the  quakeress  assured  her  that  logic 
would  never  save  her,  she  either  referred  darkly  to  the 
comparative  unimportance  of  her  own  salvation,  or  re- 
plied, "  That's  very  true,"  with  a  far-away  look  in  her 
eyes  that  was  trying  even  to  sanctified  flesh  and  blood. 
Instead  of  "  doubting  "  things,  she  was  tempted  to  "  re- 
gard them  as  more  than  controvertible,"  and  she  had 
latterly  shown  a  tendency  to  "  leave  her  sister  when 


WILHELMINA'S  DREAM.  323 

she  prayed,  her  early  heaven,  her  happy  views  " — that 
was  positively  insulting. 

The  two  girls  were  warmly  attached,  but  at  this  time 
each  certainly  drew  out  the  least  amiable  side  of  the 
other. 

"  Don't  let  us  argue,  dear,"  Wilhelmina  said  at  last, 
"  we  only  become  strengthened  in  our  own  opinions." 
She  thought  with  a  little  glow  of  self-satisfaction  how 
powerless  Miss  Burnet's  creed  would  have  been  to  af- 
fect a  man  of  the  world  like  Hugh. 

"  Your  new  views  have  certainly  strengthened  me  in 
my  '  old  old '  ones." 

The  quotation-marks  were  too  obvious.  "  And,  if 
you  only  knew  it,  your  vis  a  tergo  has  moved  me  far 
more  than  Mr.  Dunn's  vis  a  fronte." 

The  quakeress  helped  herself  to  more  salad.  "  Your 
Latin  nourishes,  but  I  am  interested  to  know  whether 
you  call  that  logic." 

This  was  a  home-thrust.  "  I  think  there  is  logic  in 
it,"  Wilhelmina  answered,  "  but  I  don't  mind  owning 
to  human  nature." 

"And  pride  of  intellect?" 

"Pleasure  of  intellect,  rather.  One  cannot  help  en- 
joying the  healthy  exercise  of  a  function." 

"  Yet  I  think  you  must  admit  that  greater  intellects 
even  than  yours  have  been  content  to  accept  the  old- 
fashioned  gospel  ? " 

Wilhelmina  rose.  In  her  present  mood  a  platitude 
was  more  than  she  could  bear.  "  Good-night,"  she  said. 
"  We  must  try  to  remember  that  we  are  both  honestly 
seeking  the  truth." 

The  quakeress  laid  her  hand  affectionately  on  her 
worn  old  Bible.  "  God  has  given  us  the  truth." 

"  Truly — for  those  who  have  ears  to  hear." 

I  am  afraid  the  reader  will  think  that  Wilhelmina 
too  might  almost  as  well  have  ended  the  evening  in  a 
music-hall ! 

The  window  of  her  room  stood  wide  open,  and,  after 
the  heat  of  the  day,  the  night  air  seemed  cool  and  fresh. 
Not  a  star  was  visible,  but  the  darkness  brought  its  own 
message  of  peace.  The  young  girl  was  amazed  at  the 


324  WINDYHAUGH. 

wave  of  petty  irritation  that  had  swept  over  her.  "  Make 
my  motives  thrice  pure !  "  she  prayed.  "  Deliver  me 
from  pride  of  intellect !  " 

And  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  Miss  Burnet  was 
praying  too.  "  Make  my  motives  pure !  Let  no  jeal- 
ousy mingle  with  my  anxiety  for  her.  She  is  so  much 
prettier  and  cleverer  than  I  am!  but  I  do  love  her 
dearly!" 

Innocent  hearts!  When  our  friends  are  ungracious 
to  us,  how  often  might  we  console  ourselves  with  the 
thought  that  their  souls  are  very  white  in  the  eyes  of 
their  Maker! 


CHAPTEE  XLYIII. 

SEEKING. 

NOT  for  many  years  of  our  threescore  and  ten  is  it 
given  to  poor  human  nature  to  live  with  such  intensity 
as  Wilhelmina  did  now.  Her  very  rest  was  greater  ac- 
tivity. Everything  about  her  was  surcharged  with 
meaning.  Nature,  art,  literature,  daily  life — it  was  as 
if  some  great  magician  had  touched  them  all  with  his 
wand  and  converted  them  into  gold.  The  world  was 
burning  with  divine  fire,  yet  was  it  not  consumed.  The 
ideal  was  no  longer  in  the  clouds;  it  was  here,  around 
her,  everywhere.  How  beautiful  life  was,  how  sad,  how 
earnest!  Yet  in  the  midst  of  it  Wilhelmina  was  con- 
stantly seeking;  her  heart  thrilled  with  the  divine  un- 
rest of  youth.  Her  whole  being  seemed  to  keep  step 
with  the  battle-music  of  the  prophets.  "  Awake,  awake! 
put  on  thy  strength,  0  Zion;  put  on  thy  beautiful  gar- 
ments, 0  Jerusalem,  the  holy  city"  Or  again — "  I  too 
could  now  say  to  myself:  Be  no  longer  a  chaos,  but  a 
world  or  even  a  world-kin.  Produce,  Produce!  Were  it 
but  the  pitifullest  infinitesimal  fraction  of  a  Product, 
produce  it  in  God's  name.  'Tis  the  utmost  thou  hast 
in  thee;  out  with  it  then.  Up,  Up!  Whatsoever  thy 
hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  whole  might.  Work 


SEEKING.  325 

while  it  is  called  to-day;  the  night  cometh  when  no  man 
can  work" 

Yes,  the  night  was  coming,  and  the  fields  were  ripe 
unto  the  harvest.  Oh  that  she  were  ready  to  go  forth, 
and  put  the  sickle  in!  With  that  reflection  she  would 
lay  aside  the  prophet,  fold  the  wings  of  her  imagination, 
and  take  up  her  Euclid  or  her  Virgil. 

She  was  in  the  happy  stage  in  which  one  has  dis- 
carded the  doctrines  that  pain  and  irk,  while  retaining 
those  that  are  inspiring  and  beautiful.  Some  people 
contrive  to  spend  all  their  lives  in  this  stage — often  with 
excellent  result  so  far  as  those  lives  are  concerned — 
and  Wilhelmina  never  doubted  that  she  would  do  the 
same;  but  the  process  of  intellectual  gravitation  had 
begun. 

Mr.  Ellis  had  exacted  a  promise  that  she  would  not 
study  much  during  her  holiday,  so  that  she  had  plenty  of 
time  for  thought.  All  morning  she  romped  with  the 
little  girls,  or  built  sand  castles,  about  which  she  helped 
them  to  spin  the  most  wonderful  romances;  but  after 
dinner  the  children  slept,  and  then  walked  with  the 
maid,  while  Wilhelmina  wandered  on  the  cliffs  or  in 
the  pine-woods,  sometimes  reading,  more  often  meditat- 
ing, or  just  drinking  in  "  the  open  secret "  that  lay  all 
around. 

It  was  during  this  time  that  she  began  to  wonder 
whether  the  path  on  which  she  had  entered  might  not 
lead  farther  than  she  wished  to  go.  The  thought  caught 
her  breath  with  a  vague  terror,  but  she  would  not  on 
that  account  draw  back.  Indeed,  after  the  first  few 
days,  her  fear  was  not  so  much  that  she  might  wander 
far,  as  that  her  emotional  nature  might  compound  with 
something  short  of  "  the  Truth."  Poor  little  minnow 
in  the  creek !  Her  great  prayer  was  that  she  might  not 
be  "  led  away  by  sophistry  and  feeling."  "  Let  me  not 
find  a  creed  only  to  lose  it  again!  Let  me  not  drift 
into  tacit  unreasoning  belief  that  will  brighten  all  my 
life  with  a  light  that  must  in  a  few  years  die  out  with 
me!  Give  me  strength  to  bear  the  dark  till  Thou  dost 
send  me  a  gleam  of  light ! " 

One  evening  she  sat  looking  through  a  fringe  of 


326  WINDYHAUGH. 

trees  on  the  sea  at  sundown.  The  day  had  been  very 
still,  and  there  was  not  a  breath  in  the  leaves  and 
branches.  Pondering  over  many  problems,  she  watched 
the  sun  sink  below  the  horizon.  "  After  all,  God  is," 
she  said  with  a  sigh.  "  What  else  matters  ?  " 

For  a  moment  the  stillness  around  her  was  greater 
than  before,  and  then  all  at  once  a  long  shuddering  sigh 
seemed  to  shake  the  trees  to  their  very  foundations. 
It  was  unearthly.  "  What  if  there  le  no  God?"  it 
seemed  to  say.  For  the  first  time,  as  by  a  lightning- 
flash,  Wilhelmina's  mind  entertained  the  conception  of 
a  world  without  God. 

It  was  a  mere  unreasoning  conception,  nothing  more ; 
but  for  a  moment  it  seemed  to  blot  the  life  out  of  the 
landscape;  the  very  throbbing  heart  within  her  was  as 
if  turned  to  stone,  and  the  skin  rippled  on  her  body  like 
the  surface  of  glassy  water  in  a  breath  of  wind. 

"  What  if  there  be  no  God?  " 

Indignantly  Wilhelmina  turned  to  her  intellect. 
"  Do  you  hear  ? "  she  said.  "  They  doubt  the  existence 
of  a  God.  You  have  never  doubted  it  all  these  years. 
Prove  it.  Make  haste !  " 

But  intellect  did  not  rise  to  the  task  with  the  alacrity 
that  might  have  been  anticipated.  Calling  memory  to 
its  aid,  intellect  began  slowly  to  talk  of  the  argument 
from  design,  the  existence  of  a  moral  law  within  us,  the 
notion  of  perfection,  the  end  of  an  infinite  cause — 
and  its  words  sounded  cold  and  misty  and  very  far 
away. 

"  Manifestations "  Wilhelmina  had  known,  but  in- 
tellect did  not  seem  to  make  much  of  them.  She  was 
forced  to  fall  back  upon  the  manifestations  vouchsafed 
to  other  men.  And,  now  that  one  came  to  think  of  it, 
in  what  did  these  consist  ?  How  had  God  revealed  Him- 
self in  olden  times?  Not  audibly:  nor  visibly:  then 
how? 

Alas,  poor  intellect !     Alas,  poor  Wilhelmina ! 

Of  course  her  mind  did  not  travel  so  far  that  day. 
As  night  came  on  she  grew  weary  of  thinking,  and  the 
old  beliefs  settled  down  again  like  homing  birds.  But 
not  to  stay.  Day  by  day  their  flights  grew  longer,  more 


SEEKING.  327 

sustained,  and  Wilhelmina  stood  at  the  window  of  the 
ark  looking  out  over  troubled  waters. 

For  some  time  she  had  kept  a  conscientious  list  of 
"  books  to  be  read,"  and  now  she  duly  inscribed  therein 
certain  works  by  Paley  and  Butler — also  a  primer  of 
Logic  by  one  Jevons.  It  is  an  awful  moment  in  the 
history  of  a  believing  soul  when  it  cries  out  for  Paley 
and  Butler! 

A  curious  memory,  too,  came  back  to  her  of  that 
sunny  morning  with  the  racers  in  the  field,  when  Brent- 
wood  was  first  announced.  "  Chucked  the  Church," 
Hugh  had  said.  "  Honest  doubt  business." 

If  she  and  Brentwood  could  have  been  friends — only 
friends,  nothing  more — how  she  would  have  loved  a 
long,  long  talk  with  him!  It  gave  her  a  sense  of  com- 
fort to  think  that  he  had  been  over  this  ground  before 
her ;  and  that  yet  he  could  talk  of  "  throwing  oneself 
like  an  unattached  sea-weed  into  the  ocean  of  God  " ! 

Sometimes  she  dreamed  of  having  a  long  talk  with 
Mr.  Ellis,  but  that  idea  she  resolutely  put  from  her. 
That  he  would  be  kind  and  sympathetic  she  knew  only 
too  well,  but  his  influence  over  her  was  so  great,  she 
wanted  so  much  to  please  him,  that  she  could  not  trust 
herself.  This  question  must  be  decided  fairly,  or  left 
open  for  ever. 

At  times  her  depression  was  so  great  that  it  was 
more  than  she  could  do  to  be  bright  and  cheerful  with 
those  about  her.  Yet  she  redoubled  her  efforts  to  be 
faithful  in  life. 

"  Having  missed  this  year  some  personal  hope 
I  must  beware  the  rather  that  I  miss 
No  reasonable  duty," 

she  said  to  herself;  and,  with  her  eyes  strained  in  the 
direction  where  she  believed  the  east  window  to  be,  with 
a  thousand  ghostly  shapes  hovering  in  the  arches  above 
her,  she  still  prayed  that  she  might  have  courage  not 
to  light  the  candles  on  the  altar  with  her  own  hand. 
For  of  course  she  had  her  hours  of  reaction — hours  when 
she  was  haunted  once  more  by  the  spirit — or  the  letter 
— of  old  Windyhaugh,  when  she  almost  pictured  a  jeal- 


328  WINDYHAUGH. 

cms  God  writing  down  in  wrath  the  passionate  outpour- 
ings of  her  heart  and  mind:  and  more  frequent  far 
than  these  were  the  hours  of  childlike  longing  for  the 
creed  that  her  fancy  pictured,  the  God  that  her  soul  loved. 

When  she  went  back  to  town,  she  summoned  all  her 
courage  to  aid  her  in  telling  Mr.  Ellis  that  she  would 
rather  work  at  Natural  Science  than  at  Classics.  His 
obvious  disappointment  cut  her  to  the  quick. 

"Your  Latin  is  getting  on  so  well  too,"  he  said  re- 
gretfully. "  I  thought  it  really  interested  you." 

"So  it  does,  immensely,  and  if  you  strongly  advise 
it,  I  will  give  up  my  idea ;  but  it  is  more  than  my  mind, 
it  is  my  soul  that  is  thirsty  for  a  little  science.  I  will 
keep  up  my  Latin  and  come  back  to  it  later;  but  surely 
Biology  is  the  all-important  subject  just  now.  I  don't 
see  that  anyone  has  a  right  to  teach,  who  has  not  grap- 
pled with  its  problems  at  first  hand.  It  has  simply  come 
to  this,  that  I  can't  get  on  with  my  life  till  I  know  more 
about  it." 

Mr.  Ellis  smiled.  Grappled  with  its  problems! 
Here  indeed  was  a  child  of  the  age !  "  Well !  "  he  said, 
"  have  your  own  way ;  but  don't  miss  your  Matricula- 
tion in  your  enthusiasm.  And  you  must  not  go  to  the 
Napier  for  this.  I  will  make  enquiries  as  to  the  best 
place." 

So,  with  trembling  feet,  as  one  crosses  the  threshold 
of  a  darkened  room  to  submit  to  some  mysterious  initia- 
tion, Wilhelmina  entered  on  the  serious  study  of  Biol- 
ogy. She  had  long  since  read  the  famous  lay  sermon 
on  The  Physical  Basis  of  Life;  now  she  was  going  to 
probe  the  great  mystery  for  herself.  She  was  surprised 
to  find  the  laboratories  so  cheerful,  the  demonstrators  so 
fresh  and  breezy.  The  teaching  of  Biology  was  just 
entering  on  its  heyday:  Nature,  perhaps,  was  depicted 
as  a  little  gratuitously  "  red  in  tooth  and  claw,"  and 
some  painful  half-truths  were  unpleasantly  emphasized; 
but,  fortunately,  only  a  small  number  of  the  students  had 
come,  like  Wilhelmina,  in  search  of  food  for  their  souls. 
Sometimes  the  sheer  delight  of  work  carried  her  on  with 
a  sense  of  exhilaration  that  blinded  her  to  every  ulterior 


SEEKING.  329 

consideration:  on  other  days,  with  lens  and  scalpel  and 
forceps  she  strove  to  find  out  God. 

Her  diary  at  this  time  was  pathetic. 

"  A  sad,  sad  afternoon  at  the  Zoological  Gardens — 
sad,  because  of  the  endless  problems  that  suggest  them- 
selves. Can  we  not  have  protoplasm  and  soul  too?  In 
evolution  we  must  believe,  but  does  it  necessarily  follow 
that  all  species  have  sprung  from  a  common  origin? 
Yet  if  a  penguin  is  a  link  between  a  bird  and  a  reptile 
— what  next  ?  Surely  there  is  a  break  between  '  animal ' 
and  man.  Yet  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  incredi- 
ble it  seems  that  there  is  such  an  infinite  difference  be- 
tween a  man  and  a  dog.  The  latter  as  well  as  the  former 
has  thoughts,  feelings — love,  trust,  sorrow.  From  dogs 
to  lower  animals — from  those  to  plants — I  might  shake 
hands  with  a  nettle  ( !)  and  call  him  a  man  and  a 
brother." 

Such  a  common  experience  it  was ! — so  common  that 
I  write  of  it  only  as  one  paints  the  flowers  by  the  way- 
side. And  yet  it  was  an  interesting  phase  through 
which  the  earnest  youth  of  those  days  passed.  It  re- 
minds one  almost  of  the  crusades,  of  the  search  for  the 
Holy  Grail — this  strange  determined  resolution  to  go 
out  in  pursuit  of  the  Truth.  Solitary  souls — groups  of 
two  or  three — have  gone  forth  in  all  ages ;  but  here  was 
a  whole  army  with  its  enthusiasts,  its  raw  recruits,  its 
mercenaries,  its  troop  of  mere  camp-followers.  Well 
that  the  army  had  leaders  so  noble — leaders  to  remind 
them  that  "obedience  is  the  organ  of  spiritual  knowl- 
edge," that  "  America  is  here  or  nowhere."  Nay,  was 
not  a  great  seer  faithfully  reiterating  the  forgotten 
words  of  Pascal — "  Je  sais  que  Dieu  a  voulu  que  les 
verites  divines  entrent  du  coeur  dans  I'esprit,  et  non  pas 
de  I'esprit  dans  le  coeur.  Et  de  Id  vient  qu'au  lieu  qu'en 
parlant  des  chose  humaines,  on  dit  qu'il  faut  les  con- 
naitre  avant  que  de  les  aimer;  les  Saints,  au  contraire 
disent,  en  parlant  des  choses  divines,  qu'il  faut  les  aimer 
pour  les  connaitre,  et  qu'on  n'entre  dans  la  verite  que 
par  la  charite?  " 

I  shall  be  told — the  charge  has  been  brought  against 


330  WINDYIIAUGH. 

greater  folk  than  Wilhelmina — that  her  mind  travelled 
fast  in  outgrowing  the  creed  of  her  childhood.  But  she 
was  not  one  of  those  people  who,  at  occasional  intervals, 
take  a  doctrine  up  between  finger  and  thumb  and  regard 
it  with  critical  eyes.  Her  creed  seemed  to  be  a  matter 
of  life  and  death;  she  fancied  that  it  involved  her  whole 
spiritual  existence;  it  was  the  one  burning  question — 
the  one  thing  that  must  not  rest.  So  she  slept  with  it, 
woke  with  it,  lived  with  it,  prayed  with  it ;  and  her  mind 
travelled — not  fast,  but  constantly. 

What  cheered  her  through  all  was  the  hope  that  she 
was  travelling  in  a  spiral — that  a  chastening  hand  was 
leading  her  round  the  hill.  Perhaps  in  time  it  would 
bring  her  back  to  a  point  of  vantage  on  the  side  from 
which  she  had  started — a  point  from  which  she  would 
see  sun  and  moon  in  the  same  position  as  before,  while 
her  view  over  land  and  sea  would  be  infinitely  widened 
and  glorified. 

But  the  chastening  hand  will  not  be  hurried  nor 
guided,  and  he  who  gives  himself  up  to  it  must  be  con- 
tent to  wait  and  to  obey. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

AN   ORDINATION. 

"  DOES  Miss  Galbraith  live  here  ?  " 

"Yes."  The  Quakeress  stared — civilly.  She  was 
ceasing  to  be  surprised  at  Wilhelmina's  visitors,  but  here 
again  was  a  new  type.  "  She  is  engaged  just  now,  but 
I  think  she  will  be  at  liberty  in  a  few  minutes.  Will  you 
come  in  ? " 

Miss  Evelyn  was  ushered  into  what  was  really  the 
kitchen  of  the  tiny  flat,  though  the  girls  made  it  their 
dining-room  as  well.  "  What  charming  quarters  you 
have !  and  how  spick  and  span !  There  is  nothing  like  a 
bond  fide  kitchen  fire  on  a  really  cold  evening."  Miss 
Evelyn  loosened  her  furs  and  ensconced  herself  com- 
fortably. 


AN  ORDINATION.  331 

"  I  hope  Miss  Galbraith  is  well?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you.     She  has  a  bad  cold." 

A  rippling  laugh  heralded  the  response.  "  Oh !  I 
thought  it  was  only  we  poor  stage-folk  who  called  that 
being  well." 

Stage-folk!  The  Quakeress  turned  pale.  And  this 
was  a  friend  of  Wilhelmina's ! 

Fortunately  at  this  moment  Wilhelmina  herself  en- 
tered the  room.  It  seemed  to  Miss  Evelyn  that  she 
looked  very  far  from  well.  Her  face  was  thin,  her  eyes 
unnaturally  bright,  and  there  was  a  vivid  red  spot  on 
each  cheek. 

"  How  kind  of  you  to  find  me  out !  "  she  said.  "  Come 
into  my  room." 

"  You  have  not  been  to  see  me  since  Christmas.  It 
is  quite  time  somebody  found  you  out,"  said  the  actress 
cordially.  "  My  dear  girl,  you  are  knocking  yourself 
up." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  not.  I  did  work  very  hard  just  before 
my  Matriculation,  but  that  is  over  now,  and  I  have 
scraped  through." 

"  Well  done !  Why,  Vilma,  I  know  lots  of  men  who 
can't  get  through  their  Matric." 

Wilhelmina  smiled.     "  It  is  a  comfort,"  she  said. 

"  Yet  you  don't  look  exuberant." 

"  I  am  worried  to-night.  Talk  to  me.  Tell  me  some- 
thing nice." 

"  That  is  possible — oddly  enough.  I  have  news  of 
your  father.  A  mutual  friend  met  him  and  his  compan- 
ion in  Egypt.  That  is  partly  what  brought  me  here  to- 
night. I  know  he  it  not  a  first-rate  correspondent,  and 
in  any  case  it  is  always  interesting  to  hear  an  outsider's 
opinion." 

"Yes?"     Wilhelmina's  eyes  were  all  impatience. 

"  You  don't  hear  from  him  too  often,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No.  He  sent  me  fifty  pounds  the  other  day."  She 
tried  to  say  this  in  an  easy  incidental  fashion.  "  Egypt ! 
They  will  never  get  round  the  world  at  this  rate." 

"  I  don't  think  they  will.  But  they  are  prospering 
famously.  My — correspondent  says  your  father  looks 
well,  and  seems  very  bright  and  self-confident." 


332  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  I  am  so  glad." 

Miss  Evelyn  read  a  few  extracts  from  a  foreign  letter. 
"I  would  not  try  to  hurry  him  home  if  I  were  you. 
This  sort  of  thing  is  so  good  for  him." 

Wilhelmina  laughed  softly.  Was  she  at  all  likely  to 
hurry  him  home? 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  him,  petite?" 

"Who  wouldn't  be?" 

Miss  Evelyn  had  a  gift  for  frank  brutality,  but  she 
paused  before  the  next  question.  "  Were  you  so  fond  of 
him  in  the  Bayswater  days  ? " 

Wilhelmina  flushed  hotly.  "It  was  not  his  fault" 
she  said  after  a  pause,  with  the  air  of  a  counsel  for  the 
defence.  "  He  did  help  us  a  great  deal  at  first,  but  the 
case  was  hopeless.  My  stepmother  was  more  than  good 
to  me,  but — she  always  thought  our  misfortunes  were  an 
accident.  She  took  the  house  at  Bayswater  while  my 
father  was  abroad.  It  was  not  his  fault.  The  case  was 
hopeless." 

Miss  Evelyn  fell  a-musing.  "  I  like  to  hear  you 
stand  up  for  him,"  she  said,  "  but  now  that  you  are  a 
woman,  it  won't  do  for  you  to  go  on  spoiling  him.  My 
belief  is  that  most  of  his  inconsistencies  are  due  to  the 
fact  that  Prowy  meant  him  for  a  good  man — a  deliri- 
ously, melodramatically  good  man — and  that  everybody 
insisted  on  spoiling  him.  He  is  my  very  dear  friend, 
Vilma,  but  he  is  selfish,  you  know.  His  own  people 
always  asked  too  much  of  him,  and,  when  he  turned  to 
the  circle  of  his  choice,  they  asked  too  little.  It  was 
demoralizing.  Do  you  see  what  I  mean  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  did  not  answer.  She  saw  only  too  well, 
but  to  say  so  would  have  seemed  disloyal  to  the  absent 
father. 

Miss  Evelyn  went  on,  musing.  "  In  other  words,  he 
is  like  a  man  who  has  plenty  of  silver  in  his  pockets. 
His  friends  keep  asking  him  for  gold,  and,  after  worry- 
ing because  he  hasn't  got  it  to  give,  he  suddenly  dis- 
covers that  there  are  lots  of  pleasant  people  who  will 
be  abundantly  satisfied  with  copper.  Then  he  had  a 
great  misfortune  in  his  youth.  That  nearly  wrecked  his 
life." 


AN  ORDINATION.  333 

Wilhelmina  seemed  to  have  heard  a  rumour  to  this 
effect.  "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  about  that,"  she  said, 
"  if  you  think  he  wouldn't  object." 

"  I  can't.  I  never  knew  the  details,  and  now  they 
are  buried  for  ever.  Even  Ronald  refused  to  say  much 
about  it.  But  it  made  me  sorry  for  your  father  always. 
How  hot  your  hands  are,  child !  Tell  me  what  it  is  that 
is  worrying  you." 

It  was  some  moments  before  the  young  girl  replied. 

"  Such  a  horrible  thing  has  happened !  "  she  said, 
impetuously,  at  last.  "  The  friend  who  was  with  me 
just  now — a  woman  who  lives  in  the  flat  below — is  in 
such  trouble!  She  had  a  daughter — such  a  bonny  kit- 
teii-like  thing 

Only  the  old  old  story — of  sin  and  shame!  Yet  a 
story  which,  when  first  understood,  forms  an  epoch  in 
the  life  of  a  generous  girl. 

Miss  Evelyn  was  disappointed.  She  did  not  under- 
stand impersonal  grief.  "  So,"  she  said  calmly,  "  you 
have  just  got  to  that  particular  stage." 

Wilhelmina  raised  reproachful  eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  think  me  a  cynical  brute.  Ten  or 
fifteen  years  hence  some  sweet  young  girl  will  come  to 
you — her  eyes  just  open  to  the  wrongs  of  her  sex.  Think 
of  me  then,  Vilma !  " 

Wilhelmina's  eyes  blazed.  "  How  damnably  selfish 
we  good  women  are !  " 

"  I  admit  the  first  impeachment,  not  the  second. 
What  have  I  done  that  you  should  call  me  good  ?  Is  all 
this  a  revelation  to  you,  little  one  ? " 

"  I  have  known  about  this  particular  case  for  a  fort- 
night, if  that  is  what  you  mean.  The  mother  came  to 
consult  me  to-night.  She  has  just  found  out  that  the 
man  is — a  gentleman!" 

"  That  seems  satisfactory  so  far."  Miss  Evelyn  re- 
flected. "  I  thought  you  were  initiated  early.  I  re- 
member seeing  a  bonny  bairn  in  a  cottage  near  Windy- 
haugh,  whom  your  parlour-maid  introduced  to  me  as — 
well — '  une  petite  indiscretion  de  sa  jeunesse'l" 

"  That  was  different.  Jane  was  old — or  seemed  so 
to  me.  Molly  is  a  child — seventeen !  " 


334:  WINDYHAUGH. 

Miss  Evelyn  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  She  is  not 
the  first." 

"  I  know.  That  is  my  point.  Oh,  Pauline,  what 
can  we  do  ?  " 

"  Lend  a  helping  hand  here  and  there  in  an  indi- 
vidual ease.  It  will  probably  be  rejected  with  scorn. 
The  evil  is  eternal." 

"Then  there  is  no  God!" 

The  actress  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  That's  as  may 
be.  I  have  no  reliable  information.  I  am  sorry  to  dis- 
turb your  illusions,  Vilma;  but  I  decline  to  spout  rose- 
water  sentiment  for  the  benefit  of  a  married  woman ! " 

There  was  silence. 

"What  on  earth  did  the  mother  come  and  harrow 
you  for,  I  wonder  ? "  said  Miss  Evelyn  sharply  at  last. 

Wilhelmina  looked  up  indignantly.  "  Because  she  is 
my  friend.  Because  I  care" 

"  I  suppose  it  is  as  much  as  my  place  is  worth  to 
suggest  that  the  girl  may  have  been  partially  to  blame  ?  " 

"To  blame? "  Wilhelmina  rested  a  crimson  face  on 
her  two  hands,  and  looked  doggedly  across  at  her  friend. 
"  Where  are  we  to  draw  the  line  of  blame  ?  A  perilous 
path  is  the  path  of  love !  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  that !  Crossing  Niagara  on  a  tight- 
rope isn't  in  it !  " 

"  But  the  man  had  one  sure  guide.  He  Icnew  quite 
well  what  it  must  mean  for  her.  God  do  so  to  me  and 
more  also  if  I  ever  forget  my  sisterhood  with  women 
like  that!" 

She  rose  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room,  pausing  at 
last  before  a  reproduction  of  Guide's  Cenci  on  the  wall. 
"  I  keep  that  there,"  she  said  slowly,  "  to  remind  me  of 
— what  women  have  suffered !  When  life  runs  smoothly, 
and  men  are  chivalrous,  and  everyone  is  kind — one  is 
apt  to  forget !  " 

"  I  will  give  you  a  Bacchante  to  hang  opposite.  We 
can't  have  you  grow  one-sided.  How  did  you  come  by 
that?" 

"  Hugh  gave  it  to  me.     He  knew  I  admired  it." 

" Hugh?"  Miss  Evelyn  looked  startled.  "Does  he 
come  here  ? " 


AN  ORDINATION.  335 

"  Sometimes." 

"He  is  a  good  generous  boy;  but  I  fear  he  is  going 
the  pace."  Miss  Evelyn's  eyes  returned  to  the  picture. 
"  Do  you  know  the  story  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  sighed.  For  the  moment  all  the  fathom- 
less woe  of  Guide's  conception  was  in  her  eyes.  "  Is 
there  any  sorrow  like  unto  thy  sorrow  ? "  she  said. 
"Poor  child!  Poor  child!" 

"Have  you  read  Shelley?" 

The  young  girl  shuddered.  "  Yes,  I  thought  I  should 
never  sleep  again;  but  the  last  part  is  magnificent — 
soul-stirring !  "  She  drew  herself  into  an  attitude  of 
simple  unselfconscious  dignity,  glancing  over  her  shoul- 
der with  a  chilly  courteous  smile  that  only  seemed  to 
accentuate  the  depth  of  woe  beneath  it. 

"  '  Give  yourself  no  unnecessary  pain, 

My  dear  Lord  Cardinal.     Here,  mother,  tie 
My  girdle  for  me,  and  bind  up  this  hair 
In  any  simple  knot ;  ay,  that  does  well, 
And  yours  I  see  is  coming  down.     How  often 
Have  we  done  this  for  one  another !  now 
We  shall  not  do  it  any  more.     My  Lord, 
We  are  quite  ready.     Well,  'tis  very  well.'  " 

"  Vilma!    Have  you  ever  acted  before?  " 

"  Occasionally.  I  belong  to  a  Shakespeare  Reading 
Club.  Was  I  acting  now?  I  beg  your  pardon.  What 
an  inhospitable  wretch  I  am !  "  She  laughed  and  held 
out  both  hands  to  her  friend.  "  Do  you  remember  the 
princely  feast  you  gave  me  one  night  when  I  was  starv- 
ing ?  May  I  retaliate  with — with — let  me  see — !  Bread 
and  cheese,  a  glass  of  draught  ale  from  the  public-house, 
and — oh,  I  would  make  you  such  a  lovely  omelette !  " 

Miss  Evelyn  looked  serious.  "  The  omelette  carries 
it,"  she  said — "  especially  if  I  may  come  into  the  kitchen 
and  see  you  make  it." 

"  Why,  of  course !  Eggs  are  becoming  possible  again 
even  in  London.  If  only  I  had  Windyhaugh  air  to  beat 
into  them ! " 

The  omelette  was  a  great  success,  but  it  did  not 
tempt  Wilhelmina's  appetite.  She  talked  gaily,  how- 
ever, all  through  the  meal,  bridging  over,  for  the  mo- 


336  WINDYHAUGH. 

ment,  even  the  gulf  between  Miss  Evelyn  and  the  quak- 
eress. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  see  you  safe  into  your  room," 
said  Miss  Evelyn  firmly.  "  You  are  fey  to-night,  as 
your  old  Ann  would  say.  You  must  promise  to  go  to 
bed  at  once." 

Wilhelmina  led  the  way.  "Yes,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
go,  my  head  aches.  It  was  good  of  you  to  come — and 
bring  me  news  of  my  father." 

"  You  know,  Vilma,  I  was  half  disappointed  when  I 
heard  of  your  engagement.  You  had  an  influence  over 
your  father  that  no  one  else  ever  had." 

"Miss  Evelyn!     /?" 

"You,  little  one.  You  were  making  him  human — 
drawing  out  the  father  in  him."  Miss  Evelyn  thought 
of  all  the  child  must  have  suffered  in  the  Bayswater 
days.  "  He  must  have  been  surprised  to  find  his  daugh- 
ter so  generous." 

Wilhelmina  bent  low  over  the  fire.  It  was  in  mo- 
ments of  praise  and  appreciation  like  this  that  her  heart 
insisted  on  a  God.  In  her  humility  she  felt  that  she 
must  get  down  at  the  feet  of  someone! 

"  Miss  Evelyn,"  she  said,  as  her  friend  was  leaving 
the  room,  "  I  ought  not — even  in  the  heat  of  the  moment 
— to  have  said  what  I  did." 

Miss  Evelyn  drew  down  her  brows  in  perplexity. 
"You  have  made  so  many  memorable  remarks  in  the 
course  of  the  evening " 

"  I  said  if  the  evil  was  eternal  there  was  no  God. 
Even  if  it  were  true,  it  is  too  awful  a  thing  to  say." 

"  Oh !  All  right.  I  am  not  susceptible,  you  know. 
And  besides — pardon  me,  dear — the  remark  was  not 
original !  " 

Wilhelmina  laughed  feebly.  "  I  own  the  softness  of 
the  impeachment,"  she  said.  "  Good-night." 

Before  leaving  the  house  Miss  Evelyn  paused  at  the 
kitchen  door.  "  I  hope  you  will  persuade  your  friend  to 
stay  in  bed  to-morrow,"  she  said.  "  She  seems  feverish. 
I  will  call  in  the  morning  to  see  how  she  is." 

Miss   Burnet's   manner   froze.     If   Wilhelmina   was 


AN  ORDINATION.  337 

going  to  be  sick,  it  was  most  undesirable  that  she  should 
have  "  stage-folk  "  about  her.  She  was  destined  to  be 
sorely  tried,  poor  girl,  for  next  day  the  patient  was  so 
unlike  herself  that  Miss  Evelyn  bundled  her  up  in  rugs, 
and  announced  an  intention  of  carrying  her  off  to  her 
own  rooms  in  a  cab. 

In  vain  the  Quakeress  protested.  "  I  may  at  least 
call  to  enquire  for  her?"  she  said  almost  defiantly 
at  last. 

"  Oh,  certainly."  Miss  Evelyn  took  a  card  from  her 
exquisite  filigree  case.  "  I  can't  promise  that  you  will 
see  her." 

"  Then  let  me  have  one  minute  alone  with  her  now." 

Miss  Evelyn  frowned  and  left  the  room. 

"Wilhelmina,  dear,"  said  the  girl  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "  if  you  are  not  better  in  a  day  or  two,  do  let  me 
send  my  minister  to  see  you!  I  know  he  would  come; 
he  is  very  kind,  and  he  would  explain  away  your  diffi- 
culties. I  am  afraid  I  have  been  horribly  unsympa- 
thetic. You  say  I  drove  you  farther  from  the  truth; 
but  he  is  wiser  than  I  am,  and  he  would  help  you.  In- 
deed, indeed  he  would ! "  Her  affection,  her  earnest- 
ness, were  unmistakable. 

Wilhelmina's  head  ached  acutely.  A  wretched  sen- 
sation of  malaise  permeated  her  whole  being.  The 
thought  of  discussing  any  subject  on  earth  was  intoler- 
able, and  a  discussion  with  Miss  Burnet's  minister ! 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  "  I  may  have  said  anything  in  a 
moment  of  irritation.  You  have  been  kind  and  good  to 

me  always ;  but  I  shall  be  all  right  soon.  We "  Her 

head  swam.  She  wondered  whether  Mr.  Brentwood  had 
felt  like  this  when  she  had  worried  him  with  her  shy 
caresses  on  that  memorable  railway  journey. 

"  Time's  up,"  said  Miss  Evelyn's  pleasant  voice. 
"Now,  little  one!" 

"  You  will  keep  an  eye  on  Molly,"  Wilhelmina  said 
feebly.  "  Ask  her  to  tea  some  day.  Would  you  mind 
calling  her  to  say  Good-bye  to  me  now  ? " 

An  hour  later  Wilhelmina  was  at  rest  in  a  bed  that 
enlarged  for  ever  her  views  of  comfort  and  luxury. 
Miss  Evelyn's  own  hands  had  administered  a  cup  of 


338  WINDYHAUGH. 

beef-tea,  and  had  laid  a  cold  compress  on  her  aching 
head.  The  fire  burned  cheerily;  the  window  admitted 
a  glimpse  of  crisp  March  sunshine. 

Wilhelmina  was  able  to  think  a  little  now.  She  cer- 
tainly felt  very  ill.  Did  the  quakeress  suppose  she  was 
going  to  die?  If  so,  where  was  she  going? — or  was  she 
going  anywhere  at  all?  Years  before,  she  had  faced 
death  calmly  with  her  head  gently  pillowed  on  a  creed 
that  rendered  her  all-secure.  What  if  the  old  doctrines 
were  all  true,  and  the  experiences  of  the  last  few  months 
had  been  a  temptation  of  the  devil?  She  felt  her  nerve 
slipping  away  from  her. 

The  arrival  of  the  doctor  interrupted  her  train  of 
thought.  Of  course  he  said  little,  wisely  declining  to 
commit  himself  at  this  stage. 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  anything  infectious,"  he  said  to 
Miss  Evelyn  afterwards ;  "  but  you  have  run  an  extraor- 
dinary risk  in  bringing  her  here." 

"  I  know."  Miss  Evelyn  nodded.  "  It  is  one  of  the 
comforts  of  a  life  of  leisure  that  one  can  afford  to  run 
extraordinary  risks." 

Wilhelmina  dozed  a  good  deal  during  the  afternoon. 
Towards  night  she  felt  worse,  and  a  panic  of  apprehen- 
sion came  upon  her.  As  a  man  in  a  burning  house  is 
prompted  to  lay  his  unnerved  hands  on  the  most  non- 
descript possessions,  so  was  she  tempted  to  lay  hold  of 
any  creed  that  might  avail  her  now.  For  hours  she  lay 
perfectly  still  in  a  ferment  of  inward  strife.  Then  she 
made  her  choice. 

"  I  must  have  faith  enough  not  to  try  to  believe,"  she 
said  wearily.  "If  Mr.  Ellis — if  a  clergyman — could 
help  me,  God  can  help  me  much  more.  Oh,  if  there  be 
a  God ! 

" '  Into  His  hand  I  commit  my  spirit.' " 

Ah,  that  sharp,  threatening  illness  of  adolescence — 
what  an  ordination  it  is!  How  many  bright  spirits 
have  passed  through  it!  Just  when  the  world  is  all 
aglow  with  ideals  that  have  not  been  realized — the  cur- 
tain falls.  Sometimes — as  in  Wilhelmina's  case — it 
.drops  to  rise  again;  but  alas,  alas  for  the  beautiful  lives 
on  which  it  falls  for  ever! 


RETURNING  LIFE.  339 

What  happens  behind  the  dread  curtain  that  is  proof 
against  all  our  longings?  Do  they  put  out  the  lights, 
set  aside  the  stage  fittings,  and  send  the  players  home? 
Or  does  fresh  music  arise  on  a  new  scene — a  new  act — 
that  far  transcends  the  things  that  have  gone  before  ? 

God  knows!     God  knows! 


CHAPTER  L. 

RETURNING   LIFE. 

"  WHAT  I  want  to  be  at,"  said  Miss  Evelyn,  "  is — the 
end  of  all  this  ?  " 

They  were  sitting  on  the  sea-front  at  Hastings  some 
weeks  after  the  onset  of  Wilhelmina's  illness. 

"  Well,  of  course  I  hope  to  take  my  degree." 

"And  then?" 

"  Then  I  suppose  I  should  have  no  difficulty  in  get- 
ting a  situation  as  science  mistress  in  a  girls'  school." 

Miss  Evelyn  drew  designs  with  the  end  of  her  um- 
brella. "  I  know  several  schoolmistresses,"  she  said. 
"  What  a  life  it  is !  Grind,  grind,  grind !  " 

A  flash  of  the  old  enthusiasm  lighted  the  young  girl's 
face.  "  If  they  make  you  feel  that,  they  have  no  right 
to  be  teachers." 

"You  will  just  be  ill  again.  The  doctor  said  the 
touch  of  congestion  of  the  lungs  was  not  nearly  enough 
to  account  for  your  weakness  and  prostration.  You 
must  have  been  working  far  too  hard." 

"It  wasn't  that.  It  was  life.  The  current  was  too 
strong  for  me.  But  I  shall  never  again  have  to  go 
through  all  I  have  gone  through  in  the  last  year." 

Miss  Evelyn  looked  surprised.  "  I  should  have 
thought  the  year  before  that  was  worse." 

"  Oh,  no  I  " 

"  Wouldn't  things  be  easier  for  yourself,  Vilma,  if 
you  trusted  me  a  little  more?  Do  you  think  I  can't 


340  WINDYHAUGH. 

see  that  you  are  breaking  your  heart  for  Mr.  Brent- 
wood?" 

Wilhelmina  raised  large  eyes  of  innocent  surprise. 
"  It  wasn't  that,"  she  said  simply. 

"  Then  all  I  can  say  is,  that  you  are  a  cold-hearted 
little  brute.  Do  you  know  what  men  are  made  of, 
child?  It  must  be  more  than  a  year  and  a  half  since 
your  wedding." 

"  Two  and  a  half  years  more,"  thought  Wilhelmina. 
She  had  long  since  learned  that  even  in  Scotland  a  di- 
vorce is  not  to  be  had  for  the  asking.  "  Mr.  Brentwood 
is  only  thirty-two,"  she  said.  "  Lots  of  men  don't  marry 
before  thirty-five.  Even  that  is  not  so  very  old." 

Miss  Evelyn  did  not  guess  the  idea  in  her  mind. 
"  So  Brentwood  is  to  wait  till  your  ladyship  takes  her 
degree,  is  he  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  smiled  sadly.  "  When  one  has  made  a 
big  mistake  that  can't  be  put  right,"  she  said,  "  the  only 
thing  is  to  begin  afresh  on  a  new  track." 

"  Big  fiddlestick !  It  was  no  more  a  big  mistake  than 
ninety-nine  marriages  out  of  a  hundred.  My  dear  baby, 
you  must  stop  crying  for  the  moon.  Any  woman  can 
make  any  man  fall  in  love  with  her.  Your  business  is 
to  make  Brentwood  fall  in  love  with  you.  He  is  as 
much  in  love  with  you  now  as  most  husbands  are  with 
their  wives,  but  you  '  ask  to  be  let  alone,'  start  a  crowd 
of  fresh  interests,  and  deliberately  elect  to  drift  apart. 
What  do  you  think  is  going  to  happen  ? — a  special  inter- 
vention of  Providence  ? " 

Wilhelmina  did  not  answer.  She  had  a  very  definite 
idea  what  was  going  to  happen.  At  the  end  of  the  four 
years  Brentwood  would  get  his  divorce  unless — un- 
less   But  the  alternative  was  so  unlikely  that  she 

would  not  allow  herself  to  dream  of  it. 

Villette  lay  open  on  her  knee.  She  had  been  read- 
ing novels  again  since  her  illness,  partly  because  her 
mind  was  equal  to  nothing  else,  partly  because  she  was 
afraid  of  growing  "  cold  and  hard "  if  she  closed  her 
eyes  too  completely  to  the  romantic  side  of  life.  She 
was  glad  Miss  Evelyn  could  not  see  a  passage  she  had 
read  and  re-read  till  she  knew  it  by  heart. 


RETURNING  LIFE.  341 

"  I  kept  a  place  for  him,  too — a  place  of  which  I 
never  took  the  measure,  either  by  rule  or  compass.  I 
think  it  was  like  the  tent  of  Peri-Banou.  All  my  life 
long  I  carried  it  folded  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand — yet, 
released  from  that  hold  and  restriction,  I  know  not  but 
its  innate  capacity  for  expanse  might  have  magnified  it 
into  a  tabernacle  for  a  host." 

"  Brentwood  called  to  enquire  for  you  repeatedly 
while  you  were  ill,"  said  Miss  Evelyn  calmly. 

The  colour  leapt  into  Wilhelmina's  face,  and  all  the 
muscular  power  of  which  she  was  capable  tugged  at  the 
sinews  of  her  hand.  Would  the  tent  expand  in  spite 
of  her? 

"  I  wanted  him  to  see  you  the  last  time,  but  he  said, 
if  you  would  allow  him,  he  would  call  when  you  re- 
turned to  town." 

The  colour  died  away,  and  the  tense  hand  relaxed. 
Of  course  Miss  Evelyn  had  manoeuvred  the  whole  thing. 
Oh,  if  people  would  only  leave  her  and  Brentwood 
alone!  Surely  circumstances  brought  enough  pressure 
to  bear  on  him  without  this  well-meant  interference. 

"  Vilma  " — Miss  Evelyn's  voice  was  low  and  vibrat- 
ing. "You  will  find  it  takes  so  little — so  little — to 
bring  him  back." 

Wilhelmina  looked  up  coldly.  The  tent  was  thor- 
oughly manageable  now,  neatly  packed  in  her  tense 
young  hand.  "  I  am  afraid  the  little  thing  will  be  want- 
ing," she  said. 

But  it  never  was  easy  for  her  to  play  an  ungracious 
part.  "Forgive  me,  dear,"  she  said.  "Indeed  I  don't 
forget  how  much  I  owe  you.  I  hope  some  day  you  will 
give  me  a  chance  to  prove  it." 

Day  by  day  the  colour  returned  to  Wilhelmina's 
cheeks,  and  with  it  came  the  old  delight  in  life.  The  re- 
turn of  spring  brought  her  a  joy  that  was  almost  ecstasy. 
She  could  have  kissed  the  budding  trees  and  radiant 
yellow  flowers.  The  subtle  scent  of  the  fruit-blossom 
tingled  along  her  nerves.  How  blind  she  had  been  every 
year  till  now!  Behold  the  great  miracle!  For  the  mo- 
ment she  had  ceased  to  worry  over  the  problems  of  life. 


342  WINDYHAUGH. 

How   good    the    world    was !      How    sweet    just    to    be 
alive ! 

"  I  haven't  felt  so  well  for  years,"  she  said.  "  I  want 
to  do  something  outrageous.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  sing 
in  the  Albert  Hall,  or  jump  through  hoops  in  the  circus. 
But  for  you  I  should  be  a  haggard  wreck,  clammily  toil- 
ing to  and  from  my  classes." 

"  I  am  glad  I  was  at  leisure  to  come  down  here.  But 
I  have  a  bit  of  work  that  will  take  me  back  to  town  in 
a  day  or  two.  I  have  promised  to  organise  some  ama- 
teur theatricals  for  Mrs.  Cavendish." 

"What  fun!  Oh,  Miss  Evelyn,  do  you  think  you 
could  smuggle  me  in  to  see  them?  I  am  hungering — 
simply  hungering  for  a  frolic." 

"  Of  course  you  shall  come.  By  the  way,  you  told 
me  you  had  acted  yourself  occasionally.  I  want  to  hear 
about  it.  What  was  your  first  role  ?  Lady  Macbeth  ?  " 

"  Your  Highness  is  pleased  to  jest.  It  was  a  horrid 
little  soubrette  part  that  I  hated." 

"Did  you  do  it  well?" 

"  They  said  so.  I  know  I  enjoyed  it  when  the  time 
came.  They  spoiled  me  so  that  that  evening  was  a 
turning-point  in  my  life.  I  began  to  see  that  I  could 
be — well,  as  nice  as  other  girls,  and  I  let  myself  go — 
took  off  my  bearing-rein,  so  to  speak." 

Miss  Evelyn  looked  at  her  critically.  "  You  were 
born  with  a  good  voice  production,"  she  said.  "  Mrs. 
Dalrymple  has  it  too,  and  your  father  speaks  well.  Sup- 
pose we  read  a  bit  now  ?  I  have  two  copies  of  The  Cenci 
here.  We  will  read  the  last  act.  There  is  nothing  too 
dreadful  in  that.  I  thought  you  did  the  closing  lines 
admirably  the  other  evening.  I  will  take  all  the  other 
parts.  You  will  find  your  hands  full  with  Beatrice." 

"  Overflowing  I  fancy." 

'  So  she  thought  when  Miss  Evelyn  began.  Giacomo's 
opening  words  created  an  atmosphere  of  tragedy  that 
affected  Wilhelmina  profoundly,  and  the  atmosphere 
grew  denser  with  every  line.  To  the  very  marrow  of 
her  bones  she  felt  the  gloom  that — like  the  contracting 
chamber  of  the  Inquisition — was  hemming  in,  crush- 
ing, choking  that  vivid  young  life.  The  sorrows  of  her 


RETURNING  LIFE.  343 

sex  had  touched  Wilhelmina  very  nearly  of  late;  and 
now  her  youth  and  her  womanhood  alike  stretched  out 
their  arms  across  the  ages  to  Beatrice — supreme  type  of 
the  suffering  of  both — "  God's  angel  ministered  upon  by 
fiends."  To  the  tips  of  her  fingers  she  felt  the  shrink- 
ing of  the  fair  young  flesh  from  the  torture  of  the  rack, 
the  human  horror  of  untimely  death,  of  the  "  cold,  rot- 
ting, wormy  ground."  Her  heart  thrilled  with  sympa- 
thy in  the  awful  uncertainty  as  to  what  might  lie  beyond 
"  the  only  world  we  know,"  in  the  inability  to  accept 
conventional  consolations.  How  peaceful  a  death  would 
her  own  have  been  in  comparison! — a  death  made  easy 
by  every  luxury  and  kindness — yet  how  she  had  shrunk 
even  from  that !  Strong  men  might  well  have  been  un- 
manned by  Beatrice's  fate,  yet  how  sublimely,  how  sim- 
ply, she  rose  to  it  in  the  end!  In  Beatrice,  Wilhelmina 
found  expression  for  the  storm  and  stress,  the  scepti- 
cism, the  paganism,  the  passionate  seeking,  the  forced 
renunciation  and  potential  heroism  of  her  own  adoles- 
cence. 

She  spoilt  the  fine  climax  by  feeling  it  too  much,  but 
that  was  a  fault  that  Miss  Evelyn  could  forgive.  From 
a  professional  point  of  view,  Wilhelmina's  rendering 
was  crude  and  sorely  wanting  in  technique,  but  it  was 
all  alive.  She  really  was  expressing  a  personality. 
There  was  not  another  girl  in  London  who  would  have 
acted  Beatrice  Cenci  just  like  that. 

There  was  a  long  silence  when  they  had  finished. 
"  Well,"  said  the  actress  at  last,  "  you  will  do  that  for  me 
a  month  hence  ?  " 

"Beatrice?     At  amateur  theatricals?" 

Miss  Evelyn  was  in  no  hurry  to  respond.  Mrs.  Cav- 
endish had  received  her  more  cordially  than  had  any  of 
Ronald's  other  friends;  and,  when  Ronald  died,  Mrs. 
Cavendish  was  one  of  those  who  had  not  gracefully 
dropped  her.  Miss  Evelyn  meant  this  entertainment  to 
be  a  success.  Mrs.  Cavendish  herself  made  an  admi- 
rable Lady  Teazle,  and  one  of  her  friends  a  more  than 
passable  Juliet;  but  the  circle  for  whom  she  had  to 
cater  was  advanced  in  its  views,  and  was  more  or  less 
inured  to  the  histrionic  triumphs  of  Mrs.  Cavendish  and 


344  WINDYHAUGH. 

her  friend.  A  new  and  charming  amateur  as  Beatrice 
Cenci  would  be  worth  many  Juliets  and  Lady  Teazles. 

Moreover  Miss  Evelyn  did  not  consider  that  she  was 
sacrificing  her  protegee.  Wilhelmina's  interpretation 
of  the  part  would,  she  felt  sure,  disarm  hostile  criticism : 
it  was  pure  and  strong  in  Shelley's  conception.  Her 
name  would  not  be  given;  her  relatives  had  no  right  to 
resent  anything  she  did,  and  if  Brentwood  was  angry 
and  indignant — so  much  the  better!  He  wanted  some- 
thing to  rouse  him.  This  would  rouse  him  like  a  thun- 
derclap. Wilhelmina  would  awake  to  find  herself  fa- 
mous, and  her  husband  at  her  feet.  Nothing  but  pas- 
sionate wooing  would  win  her  now,  and  passionate 
wooing  she  should  have. 

But  not  a  word  of  all  this  did  Miss  Evelyn  say.  She 
knew  her  audience  better. 

"  They  are  not  ordinary  theatricals,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  Mrs.  Cavendish  is  a  very  cultured  woman,  and  Ibsen 
is  a  household  word  in  their  circle.  I  think  it  is  a  mis- 
take to  suppose  that  anything  we  do  well  is  too  good  to 
give  to  the  world." 

"I  thought  I  did  it  abominably." 

"  So  you  did,  in  one  sense.  You  need  a  deal  of 
coaching;  but  you  have  hit  the  soul  of  the  thing." 

"  And  in  public " 

"  I  am  not  asking  you  to  do  it  in  the  Albert  Hall,  or 
even  in  a  circus.  It  is  only  a  charity  performance  in 
a  private  drawing-room." 

"  But  the  story  is  too  horrible." 

"  There  is  nothing  too  horrible  in  the  fifth  act.  You 
needn't  tell  me  you  don't  think  it  a  noble  conception." 

"  But  it  was  so  mean  of  Beatrice  to  let  those  men  be 
executed." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  child,  we  hadn't  all  the  advantage  of 
being  brought  up  by  a  pious  grandmother  at  Windy- 
haugh !  "  Miss  Evelyn  paused.  "  Did  you  ever  think 
of  the  self-sacrifice  involved  in  an  actor's  life?  He 
often  has  to  be  a  dark  shadow  that  someone  else  may  be 
a  high  light.  I  remember  your  father  consoling  me  with 
that  reflection  when  I  was  so  young — so  young !  " 

Wilhelmina's  face  kindled. 


BEATRICE  CENCI.  345 

"  Think  of  Beatrice's  training.  You  can't  expect 
her  to  possess  all  your  virtues." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  I  have  done  lots  of  nasty  mean  things 
myself  in  my  time.  This  would  be  a  just  expiation.  I 
should  feel  like  poor  Hester  standing  in  the  market- 
place with  an  A  on  her  breast." 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Wilhelmina  yielded.  She 
knew  nothing  of  the  world  and  its  prejudices.  She  had 
110  social  circle  to  reflect  her  actions  like  a  mirror.  The 
charity  appealed  to  her ;  she  wanted  to  please  Miss  Eve- 
lyn; but  above  all,  the  youth  and  force  and  spring-time 
in  her  veins  hungered  to  find  expression,  to  take  some 
tangible  form.  She  scarcely  realized  the  awful  keynote 
of  the  drama:  for  her  it  was  mainly  the  tragedy  of 
blighted  ideals,  of  unfulfilled  youth. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

BEATRICE   CENCI. 

MRS.  CAVENDISH'S  beautiful  house  in  Mayfair  was  a 
brilliant  spectacle  on  the  night  of  the  entertainment. 
The  great  drawing-rooms  were  decorated  with  bold  floral 
designs,  and,  from  the  outset,  the  buzz  of  excitement 
among  the  audience  foretold  that  the  evening  would  be 
a  success. 

"  Don't  look  at  the  people,"  Miss  Evelyn  said.  "  Im- 
agine you  are  still  at  the  rehearsal."  She  was  almost 
more  nervous  than  Wilhelmina  herself.  In  proportion 
to  the  audacity  of  the  subject  would  the  failure  be — 
if  The  Cenci  failed. 

Wilhelmina  felt  as  if  she  had  stepped  through  the 
portal  into  another  world.  She  had  never  been  in  so- 
ciety before;  a  schoolgirls'  tea-party  was  her  standard 
of  gaiety;  and  the  flash  of  diamonds,  the  fragrance  of 
the  flowers,  the  appealing  note  of  the  music,  the  radi- 
ance of  the  whole  spectacle  as  she  peeped  from  behind 
the  scenes — intoxicated  her.  She  forgot  the  existence 


346  WINDYHAUGH. 

of  good  and  evil,  and  was  conscious  only  of  beauty. 
This  was  not  the  world  she  knew,  nor  was  she  Wilhel- 
mina.  The  ordinary  conditions  of  time  and  space  were 
suspended.  Surely  in  a  world  like  this  one  could  do 
anything. 

A  great  hush  of  expectation  preceded  the  rising  of 
the  curtain  on  the  last  act  of  The  Cenci.  The  first  two 
scenes  went  off  more  or  less  conventionally.  Wilhel- 
mina  had  been  well  coached,  but  she  did  not  know  the 
Beatrice  who  confronted  Marzio  with  the  spirit  that  de- 
fied all  ordinary  moral  canons,  and  her  acting  wanted 
the  ring  of  reality.  Perhaps  the  idea  of  Hester  in  the 
market-place  still  lurked  in  the  background  of  her  mind, 
and  few  things  could  have  been  less  compatible  with 
Shelley's  conception. 

She  looked  very  charming,  however.  Miss  Evelyn 
had  thought  more  of  beauty  than  of  rigid  historical 
accuracy  in  designing  the  soft  white  silk  robe  that  re- 
sponded to  every  movement  of  the  rounded  limbs;  and 
Wilhelmina  was  just  at  the  age  when  the  human  coun- 
tenance answers  like  a  perfect  instrument  to  the  life 
behind,  when  the  moon  face  of  youth  is  gone,  and  domi- 
nant thoughts  and  moods  and  aspirations  have  not  yet 
had  time  to  carve  relentless  lines. 

It  was  in  the  third  scene  that  she  first  got  her 
chance.  She  looked  very  pathetic  in  her  sleep  of  ex- 
haustion, and  when  she  woke  unwillingly — all  forgetful 
of  her  grim  surroundings — she  was  for  the  moment  the 
very  type  of  innocent  childhood.  Nothing  could  sur- 
pass the  simplicity  with  which  she  smiled  on  her  brother 
and  said — 

"  '  I  was  just  dreaming 
That  we  were  all  in  Paradise.'  " 

And  then  the  tragedy  closed  in. 

The  young  actress  rose  to  it  well.  She  was  indig- 
nant, defiant,  hopeful,  terrified,  suppliant,  tender,  all,  as 
it  were,  in  a  flash;  and  when,  in  that  atmosphere  of  im- 
minent doom,  she  took  her  feeble,  shrinking  mother  in 
.  her  arms,  and,  with  the  look  of  wistful  yearning  that 
was  never  quite  absent  from  Wilhelmina's  face,  crooned 


BEATRICE  CENCI.  347 

the  "  dull  old  "  song — there  were  moist  eyes  among  the 
lookers-on. 

"  '  Have  I  forgot  the  words  ? 
Faith  !  they  are  sadder  than  I  thought  they  were.'  " 

The  last  scene  was  the  most  difficult,  but  it  was  the 
one  for  which  Wilhelmina  had  undertaken  the  part.  It 
was  in  this  that  she  found  real  self-expression. 

She  began  with  fine  dignity — 

"  '  I  hardly  dare  to  fear 
That  thou  hringst  other  news  than  a  just  pardon.'  " 

Then  in  a  moment,  came  the  reaction  into  sheer  pagan 
girlish  terror. 

'"O 

My  God !    Can  it  be  possible  I  have 

To  die  so  suddenly  ?    So  young  to  go 

Under  th'  obscure,  cold,  rotting,  wormy  ground  ; 

To  be  nailed  down  into  a  narrow  place  ; 

To  see  no  more  sweet  sunshine  ;  hear  no  more 

Blithe  voice  of  living  thing  ;  muse  not  again 

Upon  familiar  thoughts,  sad,  yet  thus  lost — 

How  fearful !    To  be  nothing !  or  to  be — 

What?    Oh,  where  am  I ?    Let  me  not  go  mad ! 

Sweet  Heaven,  forgive  weak  thoughts !    If  there  should  be 

No  God,  no  Heaven,  no  Earth,  in  the  void  world ; 

The  wide,  grey,  lampless,  deep,  unpeopled  world ! '  " 

Lucretia's  timid  conventional  words  force  her  daugh- 
ter to  pull  herself  together,  and  Wilhelmina  did  full 
justice  to  that  rise  into  self-possession,  that  quiet  accept- 
ance— pagan  still — of  inevitable  doom,  that  fine  refusal 
to  gloss  it  over  with  words  that  for  the  young  victim 
meant  nothing. 

"  "Tispast! 

Whatever  comes,  my  heart  shall  sink  no  more ; 

And  yet,  I  know  not  why,  your  words  strike  chill ; 

How  tedious,  false  and  cold  seem  all  things. 

I  am  cut  off  from  the  only  world  I  know, 
From  light  and  life  and  love  in  youth's  sweet  prime, 
You  do  well  telling  me  to  trust  in  God : 
I  hope  I  do  trust  in  Him.     In  whom  else 
Can  any  trust?  and  yet  my  heart  is  cold.'  " 
23 


348  WINDYHAUGH. 

The  restrained  tenderness  of  Beatrice's  farewell  to 
her  young  brother  brought  tears  to  many  eyes,  and  then 
came  the  fine,  simple,  exquisite  climax  that  had  so  deeply 
impressed  Miss  Evelyn  two  months  before. 

When  the  curtain  fell,  some  of  the  audience  were  ap- 
preciative enough  to  check  the  applause  of  the  mere- 
ly enthusiastic.  Miss  Evelyn's  great  coup  had  been  a 
success. 

It  was  an  amateur  study,  of  course,  and  yet  it  pos- 
sessed points  that  a  finished  professional  performance 
might  have  lacked.  Wilhelmina  acted  the  part  with  in- 
tense feeling,  with  instinctive  purity,  and  with  an  in- 
tellectual breadth  that  was  more  surprising  than  either. 
Of  course  there  were  those  who  said,  "  C'est  magnifique, 
mais  ce  n'est  pas  la  Cenci" :  one  man  of  extraordinarily 
fine  perceptions  was  heard  even  to  expresss  a  doubt  as 
to  whether  the  attractive  young  actress  knew  what  the 
play  was  all  about,  but  no  one  doubted  that  she  was  a 
fine  representative  of  the — 

"  fair  sister  ...  in  whom 

Men  wondered  how  such  loveliness  and  wisdom 
Did  not  destroy  each  other  " — 

a  finer  representative  still  of  the  youth  that  "could 
be  bounded  in  a  nutshell,  and  count  itself  a  king 
of  infinite  space " — did  not  cruel  fate  inflict  "  bad 
dreams." 

The  days  were  just  beginning  when  a  young  woman 
was  expected  to  "  do  something "  if  she  would  justify 
her  existence.  Wilhelmina  had  done  something  with  a 
vengeance. 

Miss  Evelyn  had  invited  Hugh  to  the  last  rehearsal, 
and  he  had  been  so  much  impressed  that  he  had  per- 
suaded his  mother  to  go  to  the  performance.  He  felt 
sure  that  she  would  not  recognize  her  niece,  and  he  re- 
flected that,  when  the  act  was  over,  he  could  use  his  own 
discretion  about  telling  her. 

When  the  great  drawing-rooms  blazed  into  light 
again,  he  was  relieved  to  see  the  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Poor  little  soul!"  she  said.  "What  a  pathetic 
face!" 


BEATRICE  CENCI.  349 

"Do  you  know  who  it  is,  Mother?  It  is  Wilhel- 
mina." 

Her  voice  sank  to  an  almost  inaudible  whisper. 
"  Wilhelmina  Galbraith?" 

He  nodded. 

"Well!"  Enid  fell  into  a  vortex  of  thought,  in 
\vhich  all  her  vague  and  discordant  notions  of  her  niece 
whirled  about  her.  Then  her  cynicism  came  upper- 
most. "  So  this  is  what  she  calls  *  walking  in  the 
twilight ! '  Or  has  the  Lord  changed  His  mind  concern- 
ing her  ? " 

Of  course  Hugh  had  read  that  historic  document. 
"  Don't  be  down  on  her,  Mater"  he  said.  "  This  was  all 
Miss  Evelyn's  doing.  She  is  awfully  humble,  really." 

Enid  did  not  answer  immediately.  The  buzz  of  ap- 
preciation all  around  was  quite  unmistakable.  "  Is  she 
coming  here  ? " 

"  No.  Nothing  would  induce  her  to.  She  is  strictly 
incog.  She  is  going  home." 

"  Then  you  had  better  take  her  home.  Tell  her  to 
come  and  see  me.  Stop  a  minute.  It  really  is  very 
awkward.  What  a  pity  she  married  that  young  man! 
And  then  this  play — it  is  rather  dreadful  isn't  it?  Tell 
her  I  will  write." 

Hugh  was  off  like  a  flash. 

He  found  Wilhelmina  on  the  threshold  of  the  dress- 
ing-room, surrounded  by  a  group  of  fellow  actors.  Their 
frankly-expressed  admiration  was  opening  her  eyes  for 
the  first  time  to  the  magnitude  of  the  thing  she  had 
attempted,  and  her  startled  eyes  fell  on  her  cousin  with 
evident  relief. 

"May  I  take  you  home,  Vilma?"  he  asked.  "That 
is,  if  you  are  sure  you  won't  stay  to  supper." 

"  Thank  you  very  much.  I  will  be  ready  in  five 
minutes." 

Of  course  Miss  Evelyn  had  taken  care  that  Brent- 
wood  should  be  at  the  performance.  He  needed  no  urg- 
ing when  he  heard  that  the  last  act  of  The  Cenci  was 
to  form  part  of  the  programme.  "  It  will  be  a  fiasco," 
he  said;  but  he  went.  He  was  not  the  only  man  who 


350  WINDYHAUGH. 

paid  a  fancy  price  for  the  sake  of  seeing  a  young  gentle- 
woman who  was  willing  to  act  the  part  of  Beatrice. 

Wilhelmina  had  never  looked  so  beautiful  in  her  life 
as  when  she  came  on  the  stage.  Miss  Evelyn  had  taken 
care  of  that.  Brentwood  did  not  recognize  her,  but  he 
saw  the  resemblance  in  a  moment — and,  with  a  sudden 
sense  of  shock,  every  drop  of  blood  seemed  driven  back 
to  the  core  of  him.  Was  this  an  older  Miss  Galbraith 
of  whom  he  had  never  heard?  In  that  remarkable  fam- 
ily no  mystery  would  be  incredible. 

The  second  scene  was  over  before  he  was  fully  con- 
scious of  all  that  he  saw  and  heard.  Trying  to  recall 
it  afterwards,  he  told  himself  that  it  was  a  "  very  effec- 
tive "  performance ;  but  the  awakening  in  the  prison  cell 
went  straight  to  his  heart.  Could  this  be  Wilhelmina? 
He  remembered  how  Miss  Evelyn  had  threatened  to  urge 
her  to  go  on  the  stage. 

From  that  moment  the  young  actress  held  him  spell- 
bound; her  sudden  heartbreaking — 

"O 

My  God !    Can  it  be  possible—  ?  " 

sent  a  thrill  through  his  very  vitals.  Obviously  this  girl 
had  a  gift  of  throwing  her  own  personality  into  the 
part.  It  was  Wilhelmina — how  she  had  grown! — how 
she  had  felt  the  burden  of  the  mystery!  But  who  in 
the  world  was  responsible  for  her  acting  the  part  of 
Beatrice  Cenci? 

All  through  the  last  scene  he  thought  her  acting 
wonderful;  the  paganism  of  it  seemed  to  him  a  master- 
piece ;  and  when  the  curtain  fell  on  that  childlike  figure, 
standing  so  proudly  knee-deep  in  the  river  of  death,  he 
thought  of  how  Wilhelmina  had  stood  years  before  with 
the  waves  tumbling  idly  beneath  her  feet.  "  '  For  I  am 
persuaded '  "  Ah  me ! 

Brentwood  gulped  down  a  sob.  If  this  was  his  wife 
— it  was  infamous — infamous — that  she  should  have 
been  allowed  to  act  such  a  part.  If  she  was  not  his  wife 
—this  "  fine  piece  of  nature  " — how  he  could  have  loved 
her! 

"Quite  an  amateur,"  he  heard  Miss  Evelyn  saying. 


BEATRICE  CENCI.  351 

"In  fact  she  is  a  science  student.  Oh,  no,  she  would 
never  forgive  me  if  I  revealed  her  name.  She  is  very 
shy  and  retiring — one  of  the  people  who  only  find  their 
own  personality  by  losing  it.  Such  a  sweet  girl ! " 

The  cheap  truth  of  this  maddened  Brentwood ;  but  at 
that  moment  Miss  Evelyn  advanced  to  him.  "  Pity  we 
hadn't  a  pair  of  gloves  on  it,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 
<;  What  do  you  think  of  it? " 

It  was  a  second  or  two  before  he  could  reply.  The 
lines  of  his  face  were  as  hard  as  those  of  an  old  doge. 
"  Is  she  coming  back  to  this  place  ?  " 

"  No,  she  is  going  home." 

Without  another  word  he  turned  on  his  heel,  leaving 
Miss  Evelyn  just  a  little  alarmed  by  his  manner. 

Wilhelmina  had  made  ready  as  speedily  as  might  be, 
and,  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  protection,  had  taken  her 
cousin's  arm.  In  his  other  hand  Hugh  carried  a  glorious 
bunch  of  Bride  and  Niphetos  roses. 

Brentwood  was  sick  with  fury.  "  Pardon  me,"  he 
said,  "  I  am  going  to  take  this  lady  home." 

Hugh  turned  on  him  with  a  defiant  scowl. 

Wilhelmina's  heart  stood  still,  and  then  throbbed  as 
if  it  would  burst.  Fortunately  the  tension  of  the  even- 
ing had  not  yet  relaxed.  "  I  asked  my  cousin  to  take 
me  home,"  she  said  quietly;  but,  womanlike,  she  trem- 
bled for  very  loyalty  to  her  husband.  "I  shall  be  at 
home  to-morrow  evening  if  you  care  to  call."  She  gave 
him  the  address,  and  turned  away  on  the  arm  of  the 
"  he-minx." 

"  It  was  stunning,  Vilma,  simply  stunning.  Do  you 
know  the  Mater  was  in  tears?  " 

He  had  to  repeat  the  remark  before  she  heard  it,  and 
then  her  face  burned.  "Was  Aunt  Enid  there?  How 
— horrified  she  must  have  been !  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  She  wants  you  to  come  and  see 
her;  but  she  is  going  to  write." 

Wilhelmina  shook  her  head  ruefully.  "  I  am  afraid 
she  will  think  better  of  it  before  to-morrow." 

"  Nonsense ! " 

He  did  not  speak  again  till  they  were  up  in  her  sit- 
ting-room, and  then  his  mood  had  quite  changed.  He 


352  WINDYHAUGH. 

sat  gloomily  for  a  time  with  his  head  buried  in  his 
hands.  "  So  you  do  care  for  him  all  the  time,  Vilma," 
he  said. 

"For  whom?" 

"  Oh,  come  now !  I  clearly  see  there  will  be  a  recon- 
ciliation to-morrow  evening,  and  then — good-bye  to  our 
pleasant  friendship !  " 

She  drew  herself  up.  "  How  can  there  be  a  recon- 
ciliation when  there  has  been  no  quarrel?  We  made  a 
mistake;  that  is  all.  Is  it  because  you  are  a  man  that 
you  are  so  unable  to  understand  ?  Do  you  think  a  wom- 
an capable  of  no  emotion  save  one?  Is  it  likely,  after 
all  that  has  come  and  gone,  that  I  should  meet  Mr. 
Brentwood  quite  as  an  ordinary  acquaintance?  Of 
course  I  haven't  had  time  to  forget,  but — but  all  that 
doesn't  mean  love." 

Hugh  did  not  answer.  He  would  have  given  a  good 
deal  to  know  how  much  had  "  come  and  gone." 

"  Any  news  of  Uncle  George  ? "  he  said  at  last. 

"  He  was  sailing  for  India  from  Suez  when  he  last 
wrote.  He  seemed  in  capital  spirits." 

"  Did  he  really  ?  Yes,  I  always  feel  that  he  has  got 
hold  of  some  secret,  if  one  could  only  get  at  it." 

"What  kind  of  secret?" 

"  Well,  there  must  be  something  that  makes  it  worth 
his  while  to  go  on.  Here  am  I  not  half  his  age — and  I 
have  just  about  squeezed  the  orange." 

"  Nonsense,  Hugh !  " 

"  It  is  true.  Some  fellows  fall  back  on  religion  or  a 
woman;  but  neither  religion  nor  woman  seems  to  pan 
out  with  me.  You  know,  Vilma,  at  the  time  of  Ronald's 
death  I  was  awfully  low — made  up  my  mind  to  reform 
and  all  that  kind  of  thing.  I  really  did  pray  for  strength 
to — to  resist  temptation,  as  the  pious  folk  say,  but  the 
'  strength  never  came — nary  a  bit !  You've  no  notion 
what  a  bad  lot  I  am." 

His  lips  quivered.  Did  he  wish  to  make  her  his 
mother  confessor? 

If  so,  Wilhelmina  missed  the  opportunity.  She 
.smiled  sadly.  When  one  thought  of  all  the  great  souls 
who  had  agonized  in  vain,  it  seemed  ridiculous  to  hope 


BEATRICE  CENCI.  353 

that  Hugh's  casual  little  prayers  should  meet  with  any 
answer.  And  yet,  if  they  met  with  none,  how  could  he 
gain  strength  to  "  go  on  ?  " 

"  You  did  not  pray  hard  enough,  Hugh." 
She  was  in  no  mood  for  such  talk  to-night.     She 
wanted  to  think  of  her  success,  to  wonder  how  it  had 
affected  her  husband.    Hugh  might  have  said  with  Bea- 
trice— 

"And  yet,  I  know  not  why,  your  words  strike  chill ; 
How  tedious,  false  and  cold  seem  all  things  ! " 

"Uncle  George  doesn't  look  as  if  he  prayed — much. 
Religion  hasn't  done  the  trick  for  him,  nor  has  any  one 
woman.  Yet  he  goes  on,  and  you  say  he  still  enjoys  it." 

"  He  has  a  great  many  interests  in  life." 

Hugh  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "  So 
you  recommend  a  course  of  lectures  at  the  Royal  In- 
stitution? No,  no,  Vilma,  it  won't  do.  Good-night. 
You  are  no  end  of  a  genius,  dear.  It  was  simply  first- 
rate.  Good-bye." 

Well !  The  leaf  was  turned.  This  was  his  last  visit 
to  Cousin  Vilma.  Again  he  saw  Brentwood's  white 
furious  face,  and  felt  Wilhelmina's  trembling  hand  on 
his  arm.  Of  course  they  would  kiss  and  be  friends,  and 
in  their  joint  life  no  place  would  be  found  for  a  sinner 
like  him.  He  hated  Brentwood,  and  Brentwood  did  not 
consider  him  fit  to  tie  a  decent  woman's  shoe-lace.  Wil- 
helmina  had  changed  too.  That  momentary  meeting 
had  been  sufficient  to  remove  her  a  hundred  miles  from 
him  and  his  poor  little  strivings. 

Well,  thank  God  that  all  women  were  not  clever  and 
high-minded  and — in  love  with  other  men !  Thank  God 
for  a  soft  rosy  kitten-like  thing  who  asked  no  questions, 
and  looked  up  with  worshipping  eyes! 


354  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTER  LII. 

THE   INTERVIEW. 

"  THERE  is  absolutely  no  use  in  trying  to  f  precast  an 
interview  of  this  kind,"  Harley  said  to  himself.  "  The 
only  thing  one  can  be  sure  of  is  that  it  will  be  entirely 
different  from  anything  one  anticipated." 

He  resolved  to  banish  the  whole  subject  from  his 
mind,  with  the  natural  result  that  he  thought  of  little 
else  till  he  found  himself  at  Wilhelmina's  door.  He 
was  ten  minutes  before  his  time,  and  she  had  not  re- 
turned from  a  class,  but  the  Quakeress  ushered  him  at 
once  into  the  pretty  room. 

It  chanced  to  be  looking  unusually  pretty,  for  Miss 
Evelyn  had  driven  over  in  the  afternoon  with  a  quan- 
tity of  flowers  and  of  congratulatory  notes  that  had  been 
left  at  her  house  for  Wilhelmina.  "  Quite  worthy  of  a 
lady  in  the  variety  line,"  Brentwood  reflected  bitterly. 
He  even  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  could  say  this 
to  Wilhelmina.  Many  a  pointed  remark  and  repartee 
has  been  lost  to  the  world  because  it  came  to  life  in  the 
brain  of  a  gentleman — God  bless  him!  Wilhelmina 
seemed  fated  now  to  rouse  Brentwood's  primal  instincts. 
He  was  actually  tempted  to  throw  her  laurels  out  of  the 
window.  How  dared  they  send  flowers — these  accursed 
men,  who  would  never  have  dreamed  of  allowing  their 
own  womankind  to  act  the  part  of  Beatrice  Cenci! 
Brentwood  did  not  want  Wilhelmina  himself,  but  he  was 
in  the  mood  in  which  he  could  have  killed  any  other 
man  who  wanted  her. 

He  turned  from  the  flowers,  however,  to  take  stock  of 
the  more  permanent  furniture  of  the  room — the  books, 
the  microscope,  the  instruments — all  the  stepping-stones 
that  had  led  from  the  "  little  devote  "  he  had  known  to 
the  vivid  pagan  of  the  night  before. 

And  yet  she  was  obviously  not  a  pagan  at  heart. 
The  books,  the  pictures — with  the  exception  of  an  ex- 
quisite Bacchante — were  the  natural  expression  of  a 


THE  INTERVIEW.  355 

mind  that  was  rooted  deep  in  the  soil  of  old  Windy- 
fa  augh. 

•  Ah,  those  books ! — how  they  poured  from  the  press  in 
the  strenuous  days! — books  literary,  books  scientific, 
books  philosophical,  touching  hands  round  the  mighty 
problems  with  which  men's  hearts  were  full.  The  selec- 
tion here  was  small,  but  a  whole  library  might  well  have 
expressed  less.  Battle-music,  battle-music! 

When  Wilhelmina  entered  the  room,  she  was  pale 
and  a  little  out  of  breath — perhaps  with  climbing  the 
long  stair.  It  was  hard  upon  her  that  Brentwood  should 
have  got  there  first. 

She  took  off  her  hat  as  a  schoolboy  might  have  done. 
The  room  swam  round  her  a  little,  and  to  steady  herself 
she  caught  at  Hugh's  words  of  the  night  before — "  I 
clearly  foresee  there  will  be  a  reconciliation  to-morrow." 
Her  lip  curled  with  a  touch  of  self -contempt,  and  she 
met  Brentwood's  eye  frankly.  "  I  am  afraid  you  have 
had  to  wait,"  she  said. 

(What  a  fine  keen  face  hers  was!) 

(How  much  older  he  had  grown!) 

He  smiled.  "  It  could  scarcely  be  called  waiting. 
Your  room  had  plenty  to  say  for  itself — and  for  you." 

Startled,  she  glanced  at  the  books  and  pictures  from 
a  new  point  of  view.  "  I  hope  it  treated  my  faults  with 
discretion." 

Involuntarily  his  eyes  fell  on  the  flowers,  and  she 
appreciated  to  the  full  the  sudden  hardening  of  his  face. 
Here  at  least  was  a  note  of  disapproval  in  the  chorus  of 
adulation.  But  his  glance  returned  in  a  moment  to  the 
books. 

"  Well,"  he  said  almost  genially,  "  have  you  evolved 
a  complete  philosophy  of  life  yet  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  ever  ?  I  seem  to  be  just  drinking  in  the 
mystery." 

"  You  seem  on  the  whole  to  find  it  exhilarating." 

She  pondered.  "  That  is  the  curious  thing. '  One 
day  it  sits  on  one's  heart  like  lead;  the  next  it  goes  to 
one's  head  like  wine." 

"  Yet  on  the  whole  you  are  happy." 

She  gave  her  head  a  pretty  little  toss  of  something 


356  WINDYHAUGH. 

like  defiance.     "  I  don't  know  that  '  happy '  is  the  word. 
I  am  alive,  and  life  is  intensely  interesting." 

"  And  are  you  still '  persuaded  that  neither  death,  nor 
life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things 
present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor 
any  other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the 
love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  JesuS  our  Lord '  ?  "  He 
spoke  in  a  low  emphatic  voice. 

What  a  pity  she  could  not  respond — "  And  are  you 
still  persuaded  that  '  a  fool  waits  for  an  answer '  ? " 

But  her  eyes  were  full  of  yearning  when  she  raised 
them  to  his.  She  dwelt  so  constantly  among  such 
thoughts — she  had  so  often  longed  to  talk  to  him  about 
these  things — that  the  turn  the  conversation  had  taken 
seemed  most  natural.  "  Mr.  Brentwood,"  she  said,  "  I 
wanted  to  ask  you — does  one  ever  come  back  to  that?" 

He  paused  before  replying.  "  It  was  you  who  quoted 
the  words — not  I." 

"  Surely,  surely,  the  time  is  ripe  for  another  revela- 
tion! We  are  all  in  a  muddle,  the  blind  leading  the 
blind.  Just  look  at  all  the  people  who  are  praying  for 
light. 

"  '  And  yet  God  has  not  said  a  word.'  " 

"Hasn't  He?" 

"Has  He?" 

"  I  don't  know.  There  are  those  who  say  that  the 
kingdom  of  God  cometh  not  with  observation." 

She  sighed.  "  But  one  does  so  long  for  something 
definite.  If  there  be  a  God,  He  must  know  how  thank- 
ful we  should  be  to  be  good  if  we  only  knew  He  was 
there." 

"And  would  that  be  walking  by  faith?" 

"Wouldn't  it?" 

"Would  it?  I  don't  know.  It  seems  to  me  that  if 
we  had  a  new  revelation  to-morrow,  we  should  be  squab- 
bling over  its  unimportant  details  within  a  week.  Some- 
times I  think  it  is  not  a  question  of  knowing  at  all,  but 
of  seeing" 

"  But  I  don't  see." 

"Perhaps  you  do  see,  but  don't  realize  that  that  is 


THE  INTERVIEW.  357 

what  you  are  looking  for.  I  don't  profess  to  be  a  re- 
ligious man,  but  as  a  mere  matter  of  common-sense  it 
seems  more  suitable  that  we  should  adapt  ourselves  to 
God  than  that  He  should  adapt  Himself  to  us." 

"  But  He  is  so  big— so  big !  " 

"  If  you  could  build  Him  to  your  liking  now,  would 
you  not  have  outgrown  Him  within  a  year  ? " 

Her  face  lighted  up,  as  it  always  did  when  a  fresh 
truth  came  home  to  her. 

"  And  how  about  preaching  to  the  masses  ?  "  she  asked 
at  last  thoughtfully. 

"  I  did  not  mention  preaching,  did  I  ?  Have  I  ever 
denied  the  usefulness  of  dogma  ? " 

She  looked  up  quickly,  then  smiled  half  sadly  at  the 
audacity  of  her  own  words. 

"  But  I  want  to  save  mankind!  " 

He  nodded.  "  I  am  less  ambitious.  All  I  ask  for  in 
my  wildest  moments  is  the  grace — or  should  I  say  the 
decency? — to  keep  my  own  corner  clean." 

Suddenly  he  awoke  to  self-consciousness.  Assured- 
ly there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  forecast  an  interview  of 
this  kind.  Who  could  have  dreamed  that  it  would  take 
a  turn  like  this?  All  the  time  of  their  separation  he 
had  pictured  Wilhelmina  as  cherishing  a  Christian  and 
womanly  contempt  for  him :  it  was  pleasant  to  find  that 
this  had  not  been  the  case.  The  primal  instincts  began 
to  sink  into  their  true  place. 

"  I  want  to  hear  all  about  your  life,"  he  said  kindly. 
"  I  don't  need  to  say,  do  I,  that  you  can  tell  me  nothing 
too  small  to  interest  me  ? " 

She  seemed  so  bright  and  successful  as  she  sat  there, 
that  he  felt  the  distinction  conferred  on  him  by  his  own 
failure.  He  was  no  longer  conscious  of  any  bitterness 
— only  of  a  warm  wave  of  generous  feeling  that  raised 
him  pleasantly  in  his  own  esteem.  With  a  sudden  sen- 
sation of  rest  he  realized  that  his  way  was  now  perfectly 
clear.  Of  course  no  man  worthy  of  the  name  would 
ask  this  brilliant  young  thing  to  forego  a  life  full  of 
eager  interest  in  order  to  share  his  moody  and  morbid 
existence.  What  he  would  like  now  would  be  to  share 
his  income  with  her,  and  leave  her  free.  His  very  figure 


358  WINDYHAUGH. 

filled  out  as  he  realized  that  under  the  circumstances 
this  was  the  virile — and  modern — thing  to  do.  But 
thank  Heaven  he  was  no  longer  bound  to  dangle  round 
on  the  outskirts  of  her  success!  He  need  only  accept 
the  hint  of  his  old  chief  in  Edinburgh,  and  apply  for 
that  temporary  appointment  abroad. 

She  blushed  painfully  at  the  sudden  personal  kind- 
ness of  his  tone,  and  then  she  began  her  tale.  After  the 
first  few  moments  she  told  it  well,  with  a  keen  eye  for 
her  own  mistakes.  As  her  nervousness  wore  off,  he  felt 
her  dramatic  gift  almost  as  much  as  he  had  done  the 
night  before.  Between  the  lines  he  read  the  record  of 
her  pluck  and  enthusiasm,  and  the  story  called  forth  his 
respect,  admiration,  amazement — everything,  indeed,  ex- 
cept his  love. 

Of  Mr.  Ellis  she  spoke  in  the  warmest  terms. 

For  once  Brentwood's  curiosity  overcame  him.  "And 
what  did  he  say  to — last  night  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  looked  unhappy.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  he 
didn't  know,"  she  said.  "  I  put  off  and  put  off,  and 
when  at  last  I  called,  he  had  gone  away  for  his  holiday." 
She  smiled,  but  not  without  apprehension.  "  So  I  have 
got  that,  on  my  mind  to  tell  him  when  he  comes  back ! " 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  May  I  come  in  ? "  cried  Miss  Evelyn's  voice.  "  More 
offerings  for  the  fair  unknown." 

She  stopped  short  in  overwhelming  annoyance  when 
she  saw  what  she  had  done. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Wilhelmina  without  effusion. 

Brentwood  rose.  "  I  was  just  going  in  any  case,"  he 
said. 

He  was  gratified  to  see  the  remorse  in  Miss  Evelyn's 
eyes.  His  was  not  a  forgiving  nature,  and  he  felt  that 
his  turn  had  come. 

"  Oh,  don't  go !  "  she  cried.  "  My  cab  is  waiting. 
I  must  run." 

"  Thank  you  very  much.  But  Wilhelmina  will  tell 
you  we  have  already  scoured  the  universe  in  our  talk. 
Good-bye,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand  to  his  wife,  "  I 
think  Honor  would  greatly  like  to  come  and  see  you. 
You  would  find  her  a  kindred  spirit  in  many  ways." 


THE  INTERVIEW.  359 

Wilhelmina  was  fighting  fiercely  with  the  threaten- 
ing tears.  "  It  is  one  of  the  dreams  of  my  life  that  she 
should  be  my  friend." 

"  She  has  been  that — and  your  very  warm  admirer — 
from  the  day  she  saw  you." 

A  moment  later  he  was  gone. 

There  was  a  great  silence  in  the  room.  Wilhelmina 
had  walked  over  to  the  window. 

"  Vilma,  dear,"  said  Miss  Evelyn  at  last,  "  I  am  inex- 
pressibly sorry." 

Wilhelmina  tapped  the  ground  impatiently  with  her 
foot.  "  Don't,"  she  said.  "  What  is  the  use  of  talking? 
But  pray  take  those  flowers  to  somebody  else — I  am  sick, 
sick,  sick,  of  the  whole  thing !  " 

Miss  Evelyn  was  startled.  Such  an  outburst  as  that 
from  most  of  her  friends  would  have  meant — just  noth- 
ing at  all ;  but  most  of  her  friends  had  not  been  brought 
up  at  puritan  Windyhaugh. 

And  indeed  Wilhelmina  awoke  next  morning,  feeling 
as  though  she  had  come  to  the  end  of  all  things.  What 
did  life  contain  that  made  it  worth  while  to  get  up  and 
dress  and  go  on  living?  No  doubt  much  of  this  feeling 
was  sheer  physical  reaction  after  the  excitement  of  the 
play.  The  wonder  is  that  it  had  not  set  in  the  day  be- 
fore; but  the  flowers,  the  adulation,  the  prospect  of  the 
meeting  with  her  husband,  had  kept  up  her  spirits  till 
now. 

Of  course  she  went  to  her  classes  as  usual,  though 
for  days  her  perceptions  were  as  if  wrapped  in  a  thick 
dank  fog. 

But  youth  is  youth,  and  for  Wilhelmina  life  at  the 
worst  was  always  life.  On  the  third  day  the  fog  began 
to  clear,  and  a  sudden  sharp  storm  dispelled  it  wholly. 
Molly — pretty  peccant  Molly — disappeared.  For  weeks 
— until  the  play  began  to  absorb  all  her  energies — Wil- 
helmina had  been  treating  the  girl  like  a  sister,  and  now 
the  disappointment  was  great.  Older  women — women 
inured  to  good  works — treat  cases  like  this  on  a  regular 
system.  Wilhelmina's  system  was  still  to  make.  We 
never  fall  into  such  grave  mistakes  as  when  in  the  ar- 


360  WINDYHAUGH. 

dour  of  youth  we  treat  each  case  as  though  it  were  the 
first  that  had  occurred  in  the  history  of  man ;  but  do  we 
ever  again  do  such  good  work? 

"  Do  you  suppose  she  has  gone  to  marry  him  ? "  she 
asked  of  the  mother. 

The  woman  took  her  apron  from  her  eyes,  and 
laughed  with  the  harsh  practical  cynicism  of  the  work- 
ing woman.  "  Bless  your  innocent  soul,  miss.  I  doubt 
he's  got  her  cheaper  than  that." 

Wilhelmina's  eyes  blazed.  "If  we  could  only  find 
out  who  the  man  is " 

The  woman  hesitated,  and  moved  uneasily  from  one 
foot  to  the  other.  "  My  husband  dared  me  to  tell  you," 
she  said,  "  but  I  think  myself  it  is  only  fair  to  you. 
We're  afraid  it  is — the  gentleman — the  gentleman  that 
was  with  you  on  Friday  evening." 

Wilhelmina  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  youthful  bloom 
gone  to  ashes  in  a  moment. 

"No!"  she  gasped. 

"  I  doubt  it's  only  too  true,  miss.  You  see  he's  been 
about  the  place  a  good  deal  for  a  year  past,  and  he's  no- 
ticed Molly  from  the  first." 

Wilhelmina  sank  into  her  chair,  faint  with  relief. 
"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  you  mean  Thursday  evening."  Then 
she  awoke  to  a  recognition  of  her  own  selfishness.  "  For- 
give me,"  she  said.  "  What  does  it  matter  to  you  which 
evening  it  was?  God  knows  it  is  bad  enough  in  any 
case,  but  if  it  had  been  the  other,  I  could  not  have  borne 
it.  I  will  write  to — to  my  cousin  to-night." 

There  was  not  much  compromise  about  the  letter. 

"  MY  DEAR  HUGH  :  I  hope  they  are  maligning  you 
here.  They  say  it  is  you  who  have  taken  away  our 
pretty  Molly.  Please  write  me  an  emphatic  denial  by 
return.  The  mother  is  my  friend,  and,  if  I  had  been 
the  means  of  bringing  this  curse  upon  her,  my  heart 
would  break.  Your  affectionate  cousin, 

"  WILHELMINA  GALBRAITH." 

She  posted  the  letter  with  her  own  hands,  and  again 
she  might  well  have  quoted  Harley's  poem — "  A  fool 
waits  for  an  answer." 


THE  INTERVIEW.  361 

But  as  soon  as  the  letter  was  posted,  she  began  to 
ask  herself  how  far  she  had  been  responsible  for  what 
had  taken  place.  During  the  week  that  had  preceded 
the  play  she  had  been  far  too  preoccupied  to  pay  much 
attention  to  Molly.  Perhaps  the  child  had  looked  for  an 
opening  to  confide  in  her — had  "  found  no  place  for  re- 
pentance though  she  sought  it  with  tears."  And  Hugh 
himself — how  had  she  received  his  pathetic  attempt  to 
lift  the  conversation  on  to  a  higher  plane  that  very 
Thursday  night?  "You  didn't  pray  hard  enough, 
Hugh  " — as  who  should  say,  "  I  am  too  preoccupied  with 
my  own  affairs  to  take  any  interest  in  your  salvation." 
Brute,  brute,  that  she  was! — selfish,  cold-hearted  brute! 

So  it  came  about  that  Miss  Evelyn,  choosing,  as  she 
thought,  an«  admirable  moment  for  the  suggestion  that 
Wilhelmina  should  seriously  adopt  the  stage  as  her  pro- 
fession, was  met  by  an  incomprehensible  rebuff. 

"  All  the  world's  a  stage ! "  sighed  Wilhelmina. 

"Really,  Vilma,  the  originality  of  your  remarks  is 
most  striking,  but  the  apropos ?  " 

"  It  is  only  too  clear  to  me.  We  may  act  on  the  toy 
stage  or  not  as  we  choose,  but  we  have  got  to  act  on 
the  real  one  whether  we  will  or  no.  You  seem  extraordi- 
narily successful  in  combining  the  two.  I  don't  say 
that  you  lose  no  opportunity  of  doing  a  kind  action, 
because  in  truth  you  go  out  of  your  way  to  do  them; 
but  I — I  am  so  taken  up  with  my  trumpery  lime-light 
effects  that  I  miss  the  most  obvious  duty  next  to  hand. 
No,  dear,  thank  you  very  much,  but  I  will  never  act 
again." 

That  very  evening  brought  a  letter  from  Brentwood 
— an  ordinary  commonplace  inland  letter  from  the  post- 
man's point  of  view,  delivered  with  as  much  haste  and 
indifference  as  if  it  had  come  from — anybody  else  in  the 
wide  world !  It  was  a  long  time  before  the  envelope  had 
delivered  the  whole  of  its  message,  but  at  last  Wilhel- 
mina opened  it. 

"  MY  DEAR  WILHELMINA  :  I  fear  my  awkward  lips  re- 
fused to  tell  you  the  other  night  how  much  I  respect  and 


362  WINDYHAUGH. 

admire  you  for  the  way  in  which  you  have  taken  life  by 
the  horns.  Your  success  is  not  an  accident;  you  have 
deserved  every  inch  of  it ;  and,  now  that  you  have  begun 
to  succeed,  I  feel  sure  you  will  go  on.  You  are  one  of 
those  women  who  are  strong  enough  to  stand  alone,  and 
you  will  only  grow  the  stronger  for  all  the  poor  souls 
who  will  cling  to  you  for  comfort  as  life  goes  on.  '  How 
does  one  preach  to  the  masses  ? '  By  being  such  a  wom- 
an as  Wilhelmina  is  becoming. 

"  As  for  me — I  have  given  up  trying  to  be  clever. 
I  have  had  a  good  piece  of  hard  work  offered  me  at  the 
University  of  Sydney,  and  I  mean  to  accept  it.  One 
thing  I  should  like  to  ask  you  before  I  go.  After  all, 
we  are  not  quite  strangers  to  one  another.  I  want  you 
to  accept — say  a  hundred  pounds  a-year  out  of  my  in- 
come. I  would  gladly  make  it  twice  or  thrice  the 
amount,  but  I  only  ask  for  a  hundred.  Don't  you  think 
it  is  your  duty  to  give  yourself  every  advantage  for  the 
sake  of  those  whom  you  wish  to  benefit  ? — I  am, 
"  Yours  always  most  truly, 

"HARLEY  BRENTWOOD." 

"  On  second  thoughts  I  have  sent  £100  to  Macintyre 
now.  It  will  do  you  no  harm  to  have  it  in  his  keeping, 
and  if  you  should  want  it — it  will  be  there.  If  by  any 
chance  you  should  ever  want  me,  I  would  come  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth." 

Verily  Harley  Brentwood's  turn  had  come.  Wilhel- 
mina had  no  wish  to  start  for  Sydney  before  she  had 
taken  her  degree;  she  was  too  much  interested  in  her 
work  for  that;  but,  with  true  feminine  inconsistency, 
she  cried  over  the  letter  till  the  fount  of  her  tears  was 
dry.  Then  the  night  was  dark,  and  she  carried  her  ach- 
ing head  down  to  the  quiet  coolness  of  the  deserted 
street. 

Heavy  rain  had  come  on  at  nightfall.  It  soothed  her 
a  little  to  hear  it  swish  on  the  dust  and  grime.  As  she 
stood,  gazing  into  the  lamplit  darkness,  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman passed  with  his  wife  on  his  arm.  She  clung  to 
him  so  closely  that  one  umbrella  served  abundantly  for 


L'HOMME  PROPOSE.  363 

both.  His  stalwart  figure  was  the  type  of  protection, 
just  as  hers  was  the  embodiment  of  trust. 

Wilhelmina  turned,  and  dragged  her  weary  steps  up- 
stairs. "  Strong  enough  to  stand  alone."  Oh  God,  oh 
God! 

If  she  could  only  have  seen  Harley  again,  just  for 
ten  minutes — just  to  tell  him  how  miserably  she  had 
failed  in  this  little  bit  of  work  that  had  been  placed  be- 
fore her — how  she  would  have  thanked  God  for  all  the 
rest  of  her  life ! 

But  she  had  not  forgotten  that  fateful  night  on  the 
terrace ;  she  would  not  make  the  same  mistake  a  second 
time.  "  My  father  sends  me  plenty  of  money,  thank 
you" — a  poor  little  white  lie,  this;  but  the  recording 
angel  has  not  shed  the  last  of  his  tears — "  God  bless 
you,  and  good-bye." 


CHAPTEK  Lin. 


WILHELMINA  was  justified  in  fearing  that  on  second 
thoughts  Mrs.  Dalrymple  would  regret  her  friendly  over- 
ture. Enid  would  fain  have  taken  up  so  sweet  and  in- 
teresting a  girl,  but  there  really  were  too  many  odd 
things  about  Wilhelmina ;  it  would  be  better  for  the 
present  to  leave  things  as  they  were. 

Gavin  had  called  at  the  flat  before  going  to  Wool- 
wich. He  was  taller  than  his  brother  and  extraordi- 
narily attractive  for  a  lad  of  his  age.  He  kissed  Wilhel- 
mina as  if  she  had  been  his  sister,  and  talked  to  her 
with  a  simplicity  and  lack  of  reserve  that  went  straight 
to  her  heart.  He  had  brought  a  photograph  of  his  fair 
lady,  and  he  proceeded  to  fill  in  colour  and  expression 
with  eager  ready  lips. 

"Her  father  won't  hear  of  it  yet,"  he  said.  "You 
see  I  am  so  awfully  poor;  and  there  is  that  lucky  dog, 
Hugh,  scattering  his  money  as  if  it  were  waste  paper. 

24: 


364  WINDYIIAUGH. 

If  he  had  a  nice  woman  to  show  for  it,  one  wouldn't 
mind,  but — ugh !  " 

"How  is  Hugh?" 

"  Oh,  well  enough.  We  scarcely  see  him  now-a-days. 
He  and  the  governor  are  not  on  speaking  terms." 

Wilhelmina  returned  to  the  photograph.  It  was 
sweet  and  sonsy — nothing  more;  only  through  Gavin's 
eyes  could  she  see  the  wonder  of  it.  On  the  margin, 
in  a  round  schoolgirl  hand,  was  written  the  name,  "Daisy 
Lauderdale."  "  Daisy,  Daisy,"  Wilhelmina  was  think- 
ing, "  what  is  tKere  in  you  to  keep  a  man's  heart  when 
I  have  so  utterly  failed  ?  " 

"  If  the  girl  herself  cares,"  she  said,  "  and  you  get  on 
well,  the  father  will  give  in." 

Gavin  smiled.  "  She  has  never  owned  that  she 
cared,"  he  said :  "  she  keeps  me  at  arm's  length,  but  that 
just  makes  me  all  the  keener." 

Ah! 

For  two  hours  they  talked  of  nothing  but  Daisy :  her 
simplest  words  and  acts  were  full  of  meaning  and  mys- 
tery to  Gavin,  and  yet  she  was  only  one  girl  among  so 
many! 

After  this  visit,  Wilhelmina  dropped  quite  out  of 
touch  with  her  cousins  again.  She  regretted  this  be- 
cause the  simple  poverty  of  her  own  life  made  her  appre- 
ciate keenly  the  atmosphere  of  elegance  and  luxury  that 
the  Dalrymples  carried  about  with  them. 

What  distressed  her  much  more  than  this,  however, 
was  the  fact  that  Mr.  Ellis  was  genuinely  shocked  to 
hear  of  the  part  she  had  taken  in  Mrs.  Cavendish's  theat- 
ricals. He  was  unable  to  reconcile  it  with  his  concep- 
tion of  Jier,  and,  after  a  feeble  effort  to  explain  why  she 
had  done  it,  Wilhelmina  gave  up  the  attempt  in  despair. 
If  he  had  seen  her  act,  he  might  still  have  sought  an 
excuse,  but  never  an  explanation.  "  Come  and  see  me 
again,"  he  said  kindly  enough,  when  she  took  her  leave, 
but  his  voice  had  not  the  old  ring,  and  she  did  not  go. 
She  might  have  put  matters  right  by  telling  him  how 
deeply  she  repented  that  episode  in  her  life,  but  the 
very  fact  that  she  felt  his  disappointment  so  acutely — • 
the  fact  that  the  emotional  part  of  her  was  tempted  to 


L'HOMME  PROPOSE.  365 

bow  to  the  priest  in  him — sealed  her  lips.  She  was  too 
much  011  guard  against  her  own  nature. 

Honor  Brentwood  told  her  of  Harley's  arrival  in 
Sydney,  and  of  his  professorship  there.  Honor  herself 
was  with  her  aunt  in  Scotland  a  great  deal,  but  between 
her  and  Wilhelmina  there  existed  that  deep  understand- 
ing of  friendship  which  has  to  be  our  compensation  in 
life  for  all  the  lost  opportunities  of  intercourse.  From 
Miss  Evelyn,  Wilhelmina  had  drifted  apart,  as  people 
do  drift  apart  in  life,  for  no  very  adequate  reason. 

And  was  she  left  desolate  ?  Oh,  no.  A  bright  young 
woman  with  real  force  and  charm  of  character  never 
needs  to  be  desolate,  even  if  she  be  poor.  Wilhelmina 
was  very  popular  with  her  teachers  and  fellow-students. 
All  through  the  year  that  followed  the  Cenci  perform- 
ance, hospitable  doors  stood  open,  and  on  the  whole  she 
enjoyed  life  keenly. 

One  pretty  episode  the  year  contained.  Discovering 
the  open  secret  of  her  poverty,  one  of  her  professors  pro- 
cured for  her  a  holiday  engagement  to  coach  a  junior 
student.  The  work  was  light  and  well-paid,  the  condi- 
tions of  life  all  that  could  be  desired,  and  Wilhelmina 
returned  to  town  towards  the  end  of  September  with  a 
balance  of  health  and  energy. 

She  found  a  letter  awaiting  her  from  Mr.  Carmichael. 
He  was  coming  up  to  town  for  a  week,  and  hoped  to 
see  as  much  of  her  as  possible.  Seized  with  a  sudden  in- 
spiration, Wilhelmina  wrote  to  ask  if  he  could  not  bring 
Mr.  Darsie.  She  could  get  him  a  room  in  the  flat  below 
her  own,  and  for  the  moment  she  was  free  to  take  him 
about  as  much  as  ever  he  liked.  She  had  some  thoughts 
of  offering  to  pay  his  fare,  but  decided  that,  with  his 
simple  ways,  he  must  have  a  little  money  laid  by. 

"  Of  course  he  won't  come,"  she  said  when  the  letter 
was  posted;  but  he  did  come.  He  accepted  with  effu- 
sion. He  packed  his  best  broadcloth,  and  ordered  a  new 
suit  of  light  tweeds !  He  grew  younger  every  day  at  the 
prospect  before  him,  and  even  the  journey  did  not  knock 
him  up  too  much. 

What  a  week  that  was !  It  was  to  contain  two  Sun- 
days, so  they  began  by  scouring  the  columns  of  the 


366  WINDYHAITGH. 

newspapers  to  find  out  how  many  distinguished  preach- 
ers they  could  possibly  fit  into  the  time.  What  with  a 
few  week-day  services  in  addition,  I  am  really  afraid  to 
say  how  many  celebrities  they  "  sat  under."  "  Sheer 
spiritual  debauch,"  Mr.  Carmichael  said,  laughing,  and 
he  and  Wilhelmina  cautioned  the  old  man  in  vain.  Mr. 
Darsie  knew  exactly  whom  he  most  wanted  to  hear,  and 
what  to  expect  from  each;  and  he  listened  to  the  vari- 
ous discourses  with  an  unswerving  attention  that  was 
beyond  all  praise.  The  mental  effort  would  have  over- 
come any  man  save  an  old-world  provincial  Scotch 
elder.  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Darsie  showed  a  partiality  for 
"heretics,"  but  his  catholic  taste  included  the  saints 
and  the  seers. 

Then,  in  the  evening,  what  talks  they  had  about  all 
they  had  heard  and  seen !  With  what  respect  Mr.  Darsie 
dipped  into  Wilhelmina's  books!  With  what  genial 
courage  he  laid  aside  his  Scotch  reserve  to  tell  her  how 
much  he  admired  her! 

When  at  last  Wilhelmina  saw  her  two  friends  off  at 
the  station,  she  felt  as  if  she  never  wished  to  hear  a 
sermon  again  for  the  rest  of  her  natural  life. 

A  few  days  after  Mr.  Darsie's  return  to  Queensmains, 
he  had  a  sudden,  unexpected  heart  attack,  brief  but 
alarming.  He  would  not  allow  Mr.  Carmichael  to  tell 
Wilhelmina,  and  a  week  later  he  seemed  as  well  as  ever, 
but  he  felt  that  he  had  received  a  shake.  No  matter. 
The  week  in  town  was  worth  much  more  than  that.  A 
human  life  is  not  best  measured  by  its  years. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening  in  June,  and  Wilhelmina's 
examination  was  drawing  near.  Teachers  and  fellow- 
students  alike  assured  her  that  she  "  could  not  miss  it " ; 
and,  although  she  knew  how  unlucky  it  is  to  be  confi- 
dent, she  could  not  help  feeling  very  hopeful.  From 
the  point  of  view  of  sheer  success  in  her  work,  she  was 
fortunate  in  having  no  home  claims  to  distract  her  at- 
tention. 

She  was  very  happy  that  June  evening,  happy — as 
one  is  sometimes — in  a  sense  of  the  appreciation  of  her 
friends.  It  chanced  that  one  and  another  had  expressed 


L'HOMME  PROPOSE.  367 

this  appreciation  very  warmly  of  late,  and,  as  Wilhel- 
mina  recalled  the  kindly  words,  a  pleasant  unaccustomed 
conviction  grew  upon  her  of  her  own  moral  worth. 
Judged  by  any  ordinary  standard,  she  was  a  good  wom- 
an— kind  and  helpful — was  there  any  reason  why,  just 
for  the  moment,  she  should  not  admit  the  fact  to  herself  ? 
Yet  the  admission  made  her  uneasy,  she  could  not  have 
told  why.  "  Woe  unto  you  when  all  men  speak  well  of 
you ! "  Was  life  turning  out  too  easy  after  all  ?  Its 
mystery  was  still  unsolved,  but  for  the  moment  she  was 
content  to  let  that  rest.  Were  her  moral  thews  and 
sinews  growing  flaccid?  She  certainly  had  no  grave 
temptations.  As  Alexander  longed  for  fresh  worlds  to 
conquer,  so  did  puritan  Wilhelmina  almost  long  for  a 
besetting  sin  on  which  to  prove  her  strength. 

It  was  at  this  moment,  at  this  precise  point  in  her 
train  of  thought,  that  the  door  opened  and  her  father 
walked  in. 

Wilhelmina  sprang  to  meet  him,  her  face  bright 
with  welcome.  She  had  learned  to  look  at  him  very 
sanely  during  his  long  absence,  and  yet — what  a  won- 
derful creature  he  was ! 

He  seemed  almost  boisterously  glad  to  see  her,  lifting 
her  right  from  the  floor  in  his  embrace.  She  had  never 
known  him  like  this,  and  his  impulsiveness  half  fright- 
ened her;  but  a  moment  later  she  laughed  at  her  own 
folly.  Was  he  not  her  father?  How  glad,  how  glad 
she  was  to  see  him!  She  would  not  allow  herself  even 
to  formulate  the  wish  that  he  had  come  a  month  later 
when  her  examination  troubles  were  over,  and  she  could 
give  herself  up  to  the  luxury  of  having  him. 

His  hair  was  much  whiter  than  when  she  had  seen 
him  last,  and  at  first  she  thought  him  handsomer  than 
ever.  He  was  so  light-hearted,  so  ready  to  be  pleased 
with  everything.  "  What  a  pretty  room !  and  what  a 
bonny  lass  it  is !  " 

As  soon  as  she  had  time  to  collect  her  thoughts  at 
all,  she  wondered  what  he  would  say  on  the  subject  of  her 
relations  with  her  husband,  but  he  did  not  refer  to 
Brentwood  in  any  way.  He  seemed  only  too  glad  to 
have  his  daughter  to  himself.  He  expressed  himself 


368  WINDYHAUGH. 

abundantly  satisfied  with  the  frugal  supper  she  set  be- 
fore him,  and,  instead  of  asking  her  questions,  he  talked 
eagerly  about  his  own  adventures.  Wilhelmina  was 
profoundly  interested  in  all  he  said,  but  every  now  and 
then  she  was  conscious  of  a  vague  sense  of  disappoint- 
ment. He  had  always  been  a  good  narrator,  but  in  for- 
mer days  he  had  left  his  own  pluck  and  aplomb  to  be 
inferred.  Did  he  doubt  her  intelligence  that  he  should 
now  find  it  necessary  to  be  so  explicit  ?  In  another  man 
such  frankness  might  have  been  mere  lovable  naivete, 
but  George  Galbraith  had  never  been  naif. 

It  was  late  when  he  rose  to  go,  and  she  was  almost 
glad  that  he  did  not  appoint  another  meeting.  His  per- 
sonality was  so  absorbing,  and  she  had  so  many  ends  to 
tie  up  for  the  all-important  examination.  Judging  by 
her  experience  of  him  in  the  past,  she  might  not  see  him 
again  for  weeks. 

She  had  been  in  the  habit  of  sleeping  sweetly  and 
sanely,  but  that  night  she  could  not  sleep  at  all.  There 
was  a  change  in  her  father.  What  was  it?  His  dress 
was  less  scrupulously  perfect  than  of  old,  but  after  a 
journey  that  was  to  be  expected.  If  it  had  only  been 
his  dress!  But  his  face,  his  manner,  his  very  ways  of 
eating  and  drinking,  were  all  of  them  less  scrupulously 
perfect.  The  impression  left  on  her  mind,  compared 
with  the  impression  of  three  years  before,  was  as  that 
of  a  man  who  has  moved  imperceptibly  while  being 
photographed.  His  whole  personality  was  just  a  trifle 
blurred. 

There!  No  doubt  he  had  arrived  in  London  tired, 
and  had  drunk  an  extra  glass  of  champagne.  In  the  old 
days  at  Windyhaugh  she  had  often  known  him  to 
drink  enough  to  make  him  gay  and  tender,  but  she  had 
never  seen  him  quite  like  this.  Still,  if  it  rejoiced  his 
heart  to  see  his  little  girl  again — how  glad  she  ought 
to  be! 

She  was  just  starting  for  the  biological  laboratory 
next  morning  when,  to  her  great  surprise,  she  met  him 
at  the  door. 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  "  he  cried  gaily,  overruling  her  fee- 
ble little  protest,  "  the  old  man  doesn't  come  home  from 


L'HOMME  PROPOSE.  369 

foreign  parts  every  day.  I  have  such  a  lot  to  say  to 
you.  Come  in  and  sit  down." 

After  all,  one  day's  work  would  not  make  much  dif- 
ference. Wilhelmina  was  ashamed  of  her  own  reluc- 
tance, and,  slipping  her  arm  within  his,  she  went  back 
with  him  to  her  room. 

He  threw  down  his  hat,  and  walked  over  to  the  win- 
dow. "  The  fact  is,  Vilma,  I  can't  stand  London.  I 
must  get  out  of  it.  It  is  so  cursedly  provincial." 

She  started  at  the  word,  but  he  did  not  seem  aware 
that  he  had  said  anything  unusual. 

"  Why,  Father,  you  have  only  just  come  back." 

"  The  more  fool  I.  I  tell  you  what,  little  one,  we'll 
start  off  on  our  travels  together.  How  soon  can  you  be 
ready  ?  To-morrow  ?  " 

She  laughed  to  conceal  her  uneasiness  at  the  sugges- 
tion. "  And  where  is  the  money  to  come  from  ? " 

"  Money  ?  Do  you  really  think  we  need  to  consider 
money  ?  You  dear  little  girl !  " 

So  he  had  been  gambling  again.     Alas,  alas ! 

"Well?"  he  said  kindly.  "You  want  some  new 
frocks,  do  you  ?  Is  that  it  ?  " 

"  No ;  it  is  not  that,"  she  said,  taking  her  courage  in 
both  hands.  "I  should  love  to  travel  with  you,  but  I 
am  just  going  up  for  an  examination.  I  must  get  that 
over  first." 

He  looked  perplexed.     "  And  what  is  that  for  ?  " 

"Well,  I  want  to  be  a  teacher,  and  support  myself 
by-and-bye." 

As  it  chanced,  this  was  the  worst  thing  she  could 
have  said.  He  broke  into  a  genial  laugh.  "  Support 
yourself? — you!  Why,  you  little  innocent,  have  you 
the  least  idea  how  much  money  we've  got  ? " 

She  was  really  frightened  now.  "  But  I  have  worked 
so  hard  for  this  examination.  It  would  be  a  dreadful 
disappointment  not  to  go  in  for  it." 

A  sudden  angry  light  flashed  into  his  eyes.  "  And 
my  disappointment  is  nothing?  I  am  to  kick  my  heels 
for  a  month  in  this  infernal  hole  while  you  pass  your 
examination?  I  never  heard  such  a  confounded  piece 
of  nonsense.  There,  there,  dear,  I  know  you  didn't 


370  WINDYHAUGH. 

mean  it.  Put  on  your  hat,  and  we'll  go  and  see  about 
those  frocks." 

She  put  on  her  hat  obediently,  feeling  as  though 
the  earth  was  yawning  under  her  feet.  She  had  not 
the  least  intention  of  giving  up  her  examination,  but 
there  was  no  use  arguing  now.  He  certainly  had  been 
drinking,  or  he  would  not  talk  like  that.  To-morrow  he 
would  see  things  in  another  light.  No  doubt  she  too 
had  been  to  blame.  The  freedom  and  independence  of 
her  comings  and  goings  had  made  her  chafe  unduly  at 
the  necessary  restrictions  of  family  life. 

But  every  step  they  took  when  their  hansom  reached 
Bond  Street  seemed  to  rivet  her  chains.  Nothing  could 
exceed  her  father's  generosity.  In  vain  she  protested 
against  the  extravagance  of  the  things  he  bought.  The 
shopwomen  looked  at  Mr.  Galbraith  with  admiring  eyes, 
and  evidently  considered  his  daughter  a  most  inappre- 
ciative  young  woman. 

While  they  were  lunching  together  at  his  hotel,  she 
noticed  for  the  first  time  a  curious  fluttering  about  his 
mouth.  Was  it  possible  that  his  excess  was  a  matter  of 
habit  ?  And  if  so,  what  about  the  future  that  lay  before 
him — and  her?  He  was  drinking  freely  now,  but  not 
more  than  she  had  often  seen  him  drink  at  Windyhaugh. 
She  had  no  idea  how  much  wine  a  man  of  the  world  was 
supposed  to  drink.  She  looked  hard  at  the  waiters  to 
see  whether  they  considered  that  he  was  taking  too 
much;  not  the  least  glance  of  silent  comment  would 
have  escaped  her  keen  young  eyes ;  but,  except  that  they 
treated  Mr.  Galbraith  with  exaggerated  courtesy,  there 
was  nothing  to  see,  and  their  civility  was  abundantly  ac- 
counted for  by  the  amount  of  money  he  was  spending. 
It  was  clear  that  waiters  and  shopkeepers  thought  her 
father  a  very  perfect  gentleman  indeed. 

"  And  so  he  is,"  she  said  to  herself  indignantly  when 
she  was  back  in  her  little  room.  "  He  is  three  years 
older,  he  has  knocked  about  the  world,  and  he  is  tired. 
I  am  three  years  older  too,  three  years  more  observant, 
and  no  longer  able  to  idealize  him  as  I  once  could.  I 
had  seen  so  few  people  in  those  old  Windyhaugh  days." 
But  she  sighed.  Whether  the  old  air  of  hothouse  bloom 


L'HOMME  PROPOSE.  371 

had  existed  in  her  imagination  or  in  reality,  it  had  been 
a  very  beautiful  thing  to  see. 

"  To-morrow,"  she  said,  "  he  will  be  rested.  I  will 
talk  over  this  question  of  my  examination  with  him 
then.  It  is  only  that  he  does  not  understand." 

When  he  was  away,  she  imagined  herself  talking  to 
him  quietly,  clearly  and  at  length,  convincing  him  of  the 
justice  of  her  views;  but  when  the  moment  came,  she 
felt  as  if  she  were  shouting  to  him  through  a  brick  wall. 
It  was  impossible  to  get  into  any  kind  of  touch  with  him. 
Still  she  would  not  face  the  idea  that  she  might  have 
to  give  up  her  examination.  That  would  be  too  dread- 
ful. If  only  one  of  her  professors  could  meet  Mr.  Gal- 
braith,  and  talk  to  him  on  the  subject! 

If  she  had  been  on  the  old  terms  of  intimacy  with 
Mr.  Ellis,  she  would  have  asked  his  advice,  but  as  it  was 
— she  did  not.  Miss  Evelyn  was  away  yachting,  and 
there  was  no  one  else  to  whom  she  could  confide  her  fa- 
ther's weakness. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  his  arrival,  he  came  up  to 
her  room  in  excellent  spirits  as  usual.  "  Ah,  I  see  your 
things  have  come,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the  parcels. 
"  We  will  go  down  to  Dover  to-morrow  morning.  Nor- 
mandy or  Brittany  will  be  pleasant  while  this  hot  wea- 
ther lasts,  and  then  my  little  girl  shall  see  Paris.  When 
it  begins  to  grow  cold,  we'll  go  down  south." 

With  sinking  heart  she  made  one  last  effort  to  ex- 
plain her  position,  but  before  she  realized  that  he  was 
taking  her  seriously,  he  burst  into  a  sudden  tempest  of 
wrath.  She  had  never  seen  any  one  in  a  passion  before, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  almost  indecent  that  she  should  be 
the  witness  of  so  painful  a  moral  collapse.  She  sat  mo- 
tionless, her  face  as  white  as  death. 

But  at  that  moment  a  knock  at  the  door  announced 
the  arrival  of  another  parcel — a  new  hat,  as  it  chanced; 
and,  with  a  sudden  change  of  manner,  more  suggestive 
of  pantomime  than  of  sober  daily  life,  he  insisted  that 
she  should  try  it  on.  Ah,  well,  it  was  not  the  first  smart 
hat  that  has  been  tried  on  with  an  aching  heart! 

He  threw  his  arm  around  her  affectionately.  "  To 
think  she  has  never  been  prettily  dressed  in  her  life 


372  WINDYHAUGH. 

before !  "  he  said  with  a  rush  of  tears.  "  My  bonny 
bairn !  For  the  future  she  shall  have  all  that  money  can 
buy." 

Wilhelmina  had  never  realized  before  how  little 
money  can  buy. 

"  To-morrow  morning,  then,"  he  said.  "  I  will  call 
for  you  at  eight.  Sans  adieu,  little  one." 

She  was  thankful  to  be  left  alone  that  she  might  re- 
view the  situation  in  peace.  Looking  at  the  matter  su- 
perficially, one  thing  was  clear.  Either  she  must  go 
with  her  father  next  day,  or  quarrel  with  him.  Look- 
ing at  the  matter  more  deeply,  something  else  was  equal- 
ly clear.  For  some  reason,  her  father  was  not  to  be 
judged  at  the  present  moment  quite  as  a  rational  human 
being.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  wave  of  depres- 
sion with  which  she  admitted  this  to  herself.  We  be- 
come more  or  less  used  to  the  experience  as  we  go  on 
in  life,  but  it  is  a  tragic  moment  when  youth  first  realizes 
that  the  old  relations  are  reversed — that  it  must  make 
allowance  for  the  weakness  of  the  being  it  has  looked 
upon  as  something  more  than  human. 

And  now  the  application — what  was  her  duty?  She 
no  longer  hungered  for  renunciation  in  the  abstract. 
She  wanted  to  make  the  very  most  of  her  own  powers. 
She  could  not  bear  to  disappoint  her  teachers.  And  yet, 
and  yet — she  knew  that  she  would  have  to  go.  That  old 
relentless  memory  of  hers  brought  back  Miss  Evelyn's 
words.  "  You  had  an  influence  over  your  father  that 
no  one  else  ever  had :  .  .  .  you  were  making  him  human 
— drawing  out  the  father  in  him.  He  must  have  been 
surprised  to  find  his  daughter  so  generous." 

Wilhelmina  sat  down  to  write  to  one  of  her  teachers ; 
she  tried  to  compose  a  quiet  little  note;  but  when  she 
read  it  over  she  seemed  to  hear  the  ring  of  anguish 
through  all  its  lines — so  she  tossed  it  into  the  fire, 
and  the  tears  streamed  down  her  face  like  autumn 
rain. 

It  did  not  even  cross  her  mind  to  suggest  that  her 
father  should  consult  a  doctor.  Had  she  done  so,  he 
would  have  assured  her  that  he  had  never  been  so  well 
in  his  life;  but  in  after  years  it  was  strange  to  reflect 


THE  SKELETON  IX  THE  CUPBOARD.    373 

that  on  that  very  evening  men  and  women  all  over  the 
world  had  been  seeking  medical  advice  for  the  merest 
fancies  and  finger-aches. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE  SKELETON  IN  THE  CUPBOARD. 

"  WELL,  cherie,  does  this  amuse  you  ?  " 

"  Immensely.  How  quiet  they  are !  It  is  like  watch- 
ing an  ant-heap." 

Wilhelmina  and  her  father  were  sitting  in  roomy 
fauteuils  on  the  first  floor  of  the  Hotel  Terminus  in 
Paris,  looking  down  on  the  ever-varying  scene  in  the 
great  hall  below. 

An  imposing  array  of  newspapers  was  drawn  up  on 
the  centre  tables,  and  people  of  all  nationalities  were 
poring  over  their  columns.  Business  men  and  gay  tour- 
ists shared  the  comfortable  writing-tables  in  the  corners, 
family  groups  here  and  there  discussed  their  plans  in  a 
whisper,  an  actress  in  gorgeous  plumage  strolled  up  and 
down  on  the  arm  of  a  stout  young  man,  and  other  men, 
lounging  in  quiet  corners,  lazily  took  in  her  points  from 
under  drooping  lids. 

Every  minute  the  great  doors  swung  open  as  people 
passed  in  and  out,  or  the  groom  of  the  chambers  came 
forward  to  arrange  the  disordered  journals.  But  there 
was  no  bustle,  no  noise.  The  whole  scene  was  like  an 
ant-heap,  as  Wilhelmina  had  said. 

"  Well,  let  us  go  and  have  some  lunch.  What  do  you 
say  to  a  partridge,  and  a  bottle  of  Chateau  Lafite  ? " 

Wilhelmina  rose,  and  rustled  softly  downstairs  in  her 
Bond  Street  gown.  She  had  come  to  the  cynical  conclu- 
sion that  those  gowns  did  more  for  her  than  any  number 
of  letters  after  her  name.  She  had  and  her  father  had 
travelled  together  now  for  months,  and  she  had  acquired 
the  easy  air  of  the  people  who  are  used  to  be  waited  on. 
Yet  her  face  was  a  little  worn  with  anxiety.  From  the 
moment  they  left  London,  her  father's  manner  had  be- 


374  WINDYHAUGH. 

come  more  stable,  and  she  had  felt  rewarded  for  the 
sacrifice  she  had  made;  but  every  now  and  then  a  curi- 
ous fit  of  excitement  or  talkativeness  raised  her  fears 
afresh,  and  her  manner  began  to  attain  the  gracious 
dignity  and  aloofness  of  the  woman  who  knows  well 
the  effect  of  her  pretty  gowns,  but  who  feels  all  the 
time  underneath  the  sting  of  the  thorn  in  the  flesh. 

Wilhelmina  was  tall,  and  father  and  daughter  formed 
a  striking  couple.  The  head-waiter  received  them  with 
much  ceremony,  and,  as  he  pushed  in  Wilhelmina's  chair, 
and  placed  a  footstool  under  her  feet,  she  became  aware 
of  a  pair  of  hungry  envious  eyes  directed  towards  her 
from  an  adjoining  table.  They  were  those  of  a  poor 
little  elderly  Frenchwoman  who  seemed  to  be  filling  the 
role  of  maid  and  courier  to  two  exacting  English  ladies. 

"  I  must  speak  to  her  by-and-bye,"  thought  Wilhel- 
mina. She  was  acquiring  an  unerring  instinct  for  suf- 
fering in  others,  and  she  had  a  strong  feeling  that  it  is 
the  duty  of  the  people  whose  skeleton  is  considerate 
enough  to  remain  in  its  cupboard,  to  be  helpful  to  those 
whose  skeleton  frankly  takes  its  place  by  the  fireside. 

Her  opportunity  came  in  the  afternoon,  when  the 
English  ladies  were  resting  in  their  rooms. 

"  I  think  you  will  find  this  a  good  pen."  How  natu- 
rally the  remark  came !  How  the  little  woman's  face 
lighted  up  when  she  heard  it !  It  seemed  to  Wilhelmina 
strangely  pathetic  that  any  one  should  be  flattered  by  a 
little  notice  from  her — poor  Vilma  Galbraith! 

But  when  the  little  woman's  face  lighted  up,  it  looked 
ten  years  younger,  and,  when  the  owner  of  the  face  began 
to  speak,  Wilhelmina  had  a  strong  conviction  that  all 
this  had  happened  before. 

"  I  do  believe,"  she  said  at  last,  "  that  you  are  mv 
very  own  Mademoiselle.  Do  you  remember  Windyhaugh 
and  Wilhelmina  Galbraith?" 

What  it  is  to  be  French!  If  Mademoiselle  had  met 
her  dearest  friend,  she  could  scarcely  have  experienced 
a  more  lively  emotion.  She  laughed  and  cried,  and  em- 
braced her  old  pupil  with  effusion. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  that  you  would  turn  out 
like  this  ?  "  she  said  with  admiring  eyes.  "  And  that  was 


THE  SKELETON  IN  THE  CUPBOARD.    375 

your  father — Monsieur  Galbraith  ?  "  She  sighed  deeply. 
"En-fin!  At  last!  How  I  have  longed  to  meet  Mon- 
sieur Galbraith!  I  have  remarked  him  at  lunch,  and 
wondered  who  was  this  handsome  man."  She  sighed 
again.  The  contrast  between  Wilhelmina's  lot  and  her 
own  was  too  painful.  "  How  happy  you  must  be !  " 

"  My  father  is  smoking  just  now.  I  will  introduce 
him  presently." 

At  that  moment  the  swing  door  opened,  and  two 
young  Englishmen  entered,  laughing.  Of  course  there 
were  thousands  of  trivial  causes  for  their  mirth,  but 
Mr.  Galbraith  had  been  unlike  himself  at  lunch,  and  a 
sudden  fear  crossed  Wilhelmina's  mind  that  he  might 
have  been  giving  himself  away  in  the  billiard-room. 
Once  or  twice  before,  she  had  seen  men  nudge  each  other 
as  he  passed,  and  indeed  she  had  sometimes  heard  him 
talk  of  his  own  doings  to  complete  strangers  in  a  way 
that  a  gentleman  does  not  do.  These  were  the  moments 
that  graved  the  lines  in  her  face. 

She  was  relieved  to  see  her  father  come  in  just  then. 
It  was  a  comfort  at  least  to  have  him  in  her  sight.  She 
hoped  he  would  be  cordial  to  shabby  old  Mademoiselle, 
but  soon  found  that  she  need  have  had  no  anxiety  on 
that  score.  He  was  overwhelmingly  cordial — congratu- 
lated the  little  woman  on  Wilhelmina's  accent,  discussed 
Paris,  and  finally  proposed  that  they  should  all  three  go 
for  a  stroll. 

With  infinite  regret  Mademoiselle  declined,  and  he 
took  Wilhelmiiia.  She  proposed  a  drive  in  the  Bois,  but 
he  insisted  that  she  must  have  a  peep  at  the  shops.  Re- 
membering Bond  Street,  she  trembled,  for  she  could 
not  help  fearing  that  he  was  not  nearly  so  rich  as  he 
said.  He  seemed  to  be  under  the  impression  that  his 
purse  was  bottomless. 

They  went  first  into  a  jeweller's.  Wilhelmina  had 
learned  that  it  was  useless  to  argue  with  him — that  the 
only  chance  of  changing  his  purpose  was  to  turn  the 
conversation,  and  for  ten  minutes  she  worked  hard. 
After  refusing  all  sorts  of  things,  she  allowed  him  to 
give  her  a  great  purple  daisy,  very  simple,  very  choice, 
just  the  sort  of  trinket  that  appealed  to  the  tastes  of  both. 


376  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  we  must  get  something  for  Made- 
moiselle." 

"  Why,  Father,  that  is  kind  of  you.  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  it." 

It  struck  her  as  an  extremely  graceful  idea  on  his 
part,  but  when  he  chose  a  brooch  that  cost  three  hun- 
dred francs,  she  could  not  help  thinking  him  unneces- 
sarily lavish. 

"  ISTow,  let  us  go  and  look  at  some  pictures,"  she  said. 

"  All  right.  Have  you  noticed  these  little  gold  pen- 
cils? I  think  I  will  take  one  to — what's  his  name? — 
that  young  fellow  at  the  hotel." 

"  But  why  should  you  ?  He  will  be  very  much  sur- 
prised." 

Mr.  Galbraith  laughed,  and  put  the  pencil  with  the 
other  things. 

"Don't,  Father!" 

His  eyes  flashed.  "  Good  God,  Vilma !  Is  it  your 
affair  or  mine  ? "  he  shouted. 

She  blushed  deeply,  and  the  shopman  turned  away 
his  head,  but  the  pencil  was  bought. 

Mademoiselle  was  overjoyed  with  her  brooch,  and  it 
was  by  no  means  the  only  present  that  came  to  her  dur- 
ing the  days  that  she  and  the  Galbraiths  were  in  Paris 
together.  She  salved  her  feelings  by  assuring  Mr.  Gal- 
braith that  no  pupil  had  ever  been  so  much  to  her  as  his 
daughter  was,  and  perhaps  the  statement  was  not  so  out- 
rageously false  as  Wilhelmina  supposed. 

In  any  case  the  poor  girl  would  have  forgiven  much 
to  anyone  who  so  frankly  admired  Mr.  Galbraith.  She 
could  never  be  grateful  enough  to  Mademoiselle  for 
seeing  nothing  wrong  with  her  father. 

The  weather  continued  fine  for  the  time  of  year,  and 
Paris  was  full  of  tourists  returning  to  England.  One 
morning  a  local  letter  was  slipped  under  Wilhelmina's 
door,  addressed  in  a  handwriting  that  she  knew  well, 
though  she  had  seen  it  seldom.  A  crowd  of  old  recol- 
lections brought  the  colour  to  her  face  as  she  read — 

"  MY  DEAR  VILMA  :  I  have  just  heard  that  you  are  in 
Paris.  I  am  only  stopping  a  day  or  two,  and  am  very 


THE  SKELETON  IN  THE  CUPBOARD.    377 

busy  with  my  dressmaker.     Could  you  come  and  see  me  ? 
I  shall  be  at  home  to-morrow  afternoon,  and  I  want  to 
see  you  alone.    I  am  in  great  trouble  about  Hugh. 
"  Yours  affectionately, 

"  ENID  DALRYMPLE." 

"I  think  that  should  prevent  her  bringing  her  fa- 
ther," Enid  had  reflected  as  she  sealed  the  letter.  "  I 
have  no  wish  to  be  sponged  upon  as  the  pepsin  man  was." 
For,  although  the  young  millionaire  had  been  loyal  on 
the  whole,  Enid  had  heard  some  strange  stories  concern- 
ing the  latter  part  of  that  tour. 

But  she  need  not  have  been  afraid.  Wilhelmina  had 
no  wish  to  take  her  father.  After  reading  the  letter,  she 
coiled  her  beautiful  hair  rather  more  elaborately  than 
she  had  intended,  and  reflected  for  the  first  time  with 
satisfaction  on  the  exquisite  French  gown  her  father  had 
insisted  on  giving  her.  All  her  meetings  with  Enid 
hitherto  had  been  full  of  humiliation  for  herself :  now  at 
last  she  could  meet  her  aunt  on  something  like  equal 
terms. 

"  I  wonder  what  form  the  chameleon  will  take  this 
time,"  Enid  said  to  Gavin  with  languid  curiosity.  Her 
brain  was  confused  among  pictures  of  the  shabby  long- 
legged  girl,  the  writer  of  pious  letters,  and  the  beautiful 
Cenci ;  but  no  one  of  the  three  prepared  her  in  any 
way  for  the  figure  that  entered  the  room. 

Enid  would  not  have  called  her  niece  smart,  any 
more  than  Mr.  Ellis  had  been  able  to  call  her  clever,  but 
her  whole  appearance  was  that  of  a  high-bred  English 
girl.  She  was  not  beautiful,  but  those  wistful  eyes  were 
far  more  pathetic  in  an  elegant  woman  than  they  had 
been  in  a  shabby  child,  and  when  they  met  her  aunt's 
look  with  a  grave  thoughtful  directness,  Enid  became 
suddenly  conscious  of  the  necessity  of  changing  her 
whole  mental  focus. 

"Well,  dear,  it  was  good  of  you  to  come.  I  do  so 
want  a  long  talk  with  you,"  she  said,  as  if  they  had  been 
excellent  friends  all  their  lives.  "  I  was  surprised  to 
hear  you  were  in  Paris.  How  do  you  like  that  great 
caravanserai  ? " 


378  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  It  interests  me  immensely." 

"  Most  unlike  your  father  to  go  there.  I  hope  he  is 
well?" 

".Fairly  well,  thank  you."  Wilhelmina  smiled.  What 
good  points  the  child  had — teeth,  complexion,  hair.  Of 
course  any  woman  could  wear  coils  like  that,  but  the 
thick  straight  growth  above  the  ears  was  delicious. 

"  And  what  are  your  plans  now  ?  " 

"  I  believe  my  father  means  to  work  leisurely  down 
to  the  Riviera,  stopping  at  Lyon  and  Avignon." 

"  The  Lauderdales  are  going  to  the  Riviera.  I  won- 
der whether  you  will  meet  them.  Daisy  Lauderdale  is 
Gavin's  divinity,  you  know.  I  wish  you  could  come  and 
meet  them  at  dinner  here  to-night." 

"  I  think  I  could.  My  father  is  engaged,  as  it 
chances." 

"  That  is  right.  Mr.  Lauderdale  has  a  great  admira- 
tion for  learned  women,  and  Hugh  tells  me  you  are  tre- 
mendously learned." 

A  little  nicker  of  pain  passed  over  Wilhelmina's  face. 

"  I  will  do  you  the  justice  to  say  you  don't  show  it. 
I  am  very  proud  of  you,  Vilma." 

"  Thank  you.  I  feel  better  for  having  your  cachet. 
You  certainly  gave  me  the  chance  to  develop,  Aunt  Enid. 
It  is  my  own  fault  if  I  refused  it." 

There  was  a  new  ring  in  Enid's  voice.  "  I  wish  you 
had  come  to  me,  dear." 

"  So  do  I.  I  should  have  been  saved  a  lot  of  mis- 
takes. And  yet  what  folly  it  is  to  regret  anything  in 
life.  The  design  is  so  big — so  big!  Of  course  I  was 
an  unutterable  prig,  but  it  was  all  very  real  to  me  at 
the  time." 

"  You  made  me  feel  very  wicked  and  frivolous,  I 
know.  But  you  lost  nothing  by  refusing  to  come  to  me. 
It  is  better  not  to  be  quite  like  other  girls,  and  you 
have  got  that  touch  of — melancholy  is  it? — that  was  so 
attractive  in  your  father." 

"  It  is  a  liberal  education  to  live  with  my  father. 
But  you  were  going  to  tell  me  about  Hugh." 

Enid's  face  grew  old.  "Oh,  poor  Hugh — yes.  You 
have  no  idea  what  an  anxiety  that  boy  has  been  to  me. 


THE  SKELETON  IN  THE  CUPBOARD.    379 

I  really  don't  know  how  to  tell  you,  but  of  course  you 
are  not  a  girl  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  I  never  had  any  great  objection  to  a  young  man 
sowing  his  wild  oats,  but  poor  dear  Ronald  made  Hugh 
his  companion,  and  I  am  afraid  they  were  very  wild." 

Wilhelrnina  nodded  gravely. 

"  Hugh  behaved  most  nobly  about  Ronald's  money 
— insisted  on  sharing  it  with  Miss  Evelyn,  though  of 
course  she  had  no  claim  on  him  whatever.  Now  he  has 
run  through  many  thousands  in  a  year  or  two.  Even 
that  we  would  have  overlooked  if  he  would  have  married 
a  nice  girl  and  settled  down ;  but  some  time  ago  he  took 
up  with  a  quite  common " 

"  I  know." 

"Everybody  knows  now,  no  doubt.  They  went  to- 
gether down  to  some  watering-place — I  really  don't  know 
how  to  tell  you  the  rest  of  the  story.  There  was  a  man 
preaching  on  the  beach,  and  this  pretty  pair  of  fools 
stopped  to  listen.  Can  you  believe,  Vilma,  Hugh  wrote 
to  me  a  few  days  later  to  say  that  he  had  been  con- 
verted!" 

Wilhelmina  did  not  say  so,  but  she  certainly  had 
great  difficulty  in  believing  it.  Hugh,  the  man  of  the 
world,  the  sceptic,  the  boy  who  four  years  before  had 
asked  her  whether  she  was  "  particularly  gone  on  the 
doctrine  of  eternal  punishment " !  Wilhelmina  was 
young,  and  this  was  a  blow  straight  between  the  eyes. 
She  had  hoped  some  day  to  impress  Hugh  with  her  own 
fine  view  of  life.  If  one  may  use  the  parlance  she  had 
left  behind,  Wilhelmina  had  looked  upon  Hugh  as  her 
own  special  sheaf,  and  behold  a  mere  evangelical  preach- 
er had  carried  him  home ! 

Her  face  encouraged  Enid  to  go  on.  "  If  it  had  been 
a  Churchman,  I  should  have  been  so  thankful.  If  it 
had  been  a  Romanist — or  even  a  Buddhist — I  should 
have  felt  it  less — so  many  people  are  becoming  Buddh- 
ists just  now — but  a  common  ranting  Methodist! 

"  After  listening  to  the  preacher  for  several  evenings 
— on  the  beach,  remember,  with  a  mob  of  trippers — 
Hugh  stayed  behind  to  speak  to  the  man — who  is  not 
25 


380  W1NDYHAUGH. 

even  in  orders,  though  Hugh  declares  he  is  a  gentle- 
man.- He  seems  to  have  confessed  with  a  most  un- 
necessary amount  of  detail,  and  the  result  is  that  the 
preacher  has  convinced  him  it  is  his  duty  to  marry  the 
girl!" 

Wilhelmina's  face  broke  into  a  great  dawn  of  emo- 
tion. "  Oh,  Aunt  Enid,"  she  said,  "  you  have  made  me 
feel  so  small! " 

Enid's  disappointment  nearly  brought  the  tears  to 
her  eyes.  "  I  thought  you  would  have  helped  me,"  she 
said  pitifully.  "  Nobody  has  the  influence  over  him  that 
you  have.  You  should  hear  how  he  used  to  talk  of 
you!  If  things  had  been  different " 

Wilhelmina  winced  as  if  an  insect  had  stung  her. 

And  then  Enid  rose  to  an  act  of  real  generosity.  It 
was  all  very  well  to  scoff  at  the  idea  of  a  husband  whose 
main  recommendations  might  perhaps  be  his  money  and 
position;  but  who  did  Wilhelmina  suppose  was  paying 
for  that  Parisian  gown? 

•  It  would  have  been  easy  to  instil  the  poison- 
ous thought  with  a  mere  needle-prick,  but  Enid  re- 
frained. 

"  Nobody  has  the  influence  over  him  that  you  have," 
she  repeated. 

Wilhelmina's  eyes  were  very  bright.  "  Forgive  me," 
she  said.  "  I  am  abominably  unsympathetic.  Of  course 
Hugh  is  your  heir.  This  must  be  a  great  disappoint- 
ment in  many  ways.  I  do  feel  that.  I  feel  it  so  strong- 
ly that,  if  Hugh  had  asked  me,  I  could  not  have  advised 

him  to  marry  M the  young  girl.    But  " — she  clapped 

her  hands  softly  as  if  she  were  looking  on  at  some  feat 
of  strength  or  skill — "Hugh  has  taken  the  lead.  My 
business  is  to  follow  him" 

This  untried  enthusiasm  of  youth  is  very  galling  to 
those  who  know  life;  but  the  case  was  so  nearly  des- 
perate that  Enid  was  glad  to  hear  consolation  of  any 
kind. 

"  Of  course,"  she  went  on  more  composedly,  "  I  am 
quite  aware  that  this  world  is  not  everything.  Dear 
Ronald's  death  brought  that  home  to  us  terribly,  though 
I  can't  help  trusting  all  was  well  with  him  at  the  last. 


THE  SKELETON  IN  THE  CUPBOARD.    381 

But  you  must  see,  Vilma,  that  this  is  the  world  we  have 
got  to  live  in  just  now." 

"  I  know.  For  you  who  are  beautiful  and  sought 
after,  the  reconciling  of  the  two  worlds  must  be  the  great 
problem  of  life." 

"  It  is  very  difficult.  I  sometimes  think  the  great 
comfort  of  Heaven  will  be  that  there  will  be  only  one 
standard  to  reckon  with.  Perhaps  even  a  marriage  like 
this  is  better  than  living  in  sin,  and  fortunately  the 
property  is  not  entailed.  Fergus  has  stood  a  great  deal, 
but  if  Hugh  marries  this  creature,  of  course  his  father 
will  cut  him  off  with  a  shilling.  It  will  make  a  great 
difference  in  Gavin's  prospects.  I  doubt  if  Mr.  Lauder- 
dale  would  ever  have  given  his  daughter  to  a  younger 
son  in  Gaviu!s  position." 

"  Gavin  was  born — not  so  much  to  succeed  as  to  be 
successful.  Poor  Hugh  \  Does  he  know  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes  I  It  does  not  weigh  with  him  in 
the  least.  He  declares  he  has  squeezed  the  orange, 
has  tasted  all  the  pleasures  this  world  has  to  offer, 
and  has  found  them  apples  of  Sodom."  Enid  actually 
laughed.  "  There  is  a  strong  fruity  flavour  about 
his  letter.  He  means  to  invest  his  few  remaining 
hundreds  in  land  in  the  Argentine,  and  take  to  farm- 
ing." 

Soon  after,  Wilhelmina  took  her  leave.  Of  course  at 
her  age  she  could  not  but  feel  much  older  and  wiser  than 
her  aunt,  but  it  warmed  her  heart  like  a  cordial  to  be 
on  such  friendly  terms.  She  longed  to  say  that  she 
would  be  a  sister  to  Molly — would  try  to  do  for  the  child 
what  Honor  had  done  for  her;  but  the  time  for  saying 
so  had  not  come.  When  she  reached  the  hotel,  she  sat 
down  in  the  great  hall  to  write. 

"  MY  DEAR  BRAVE  OLD  HUGH  :  I  have  been  finding  life 
rather  hard  and  barren  of  late — though  you  would  not 
think  so  if  you  saw  me  I — and  have  been  greatly  cheered 
and  comforted  by  the  news  of  your  moral  pluck.  Will 
you  forgive  my  obnoxious  conceit  ?  Surely  I  shall  never 
dare  to  judge  people  again.  Even  when  they  commit  a 
sin  that  seems  to  me  impossible,  I  will  remember  that 


382  WINDYHAUGH. 

a  year  hence  they  may  make  that  very  sin  a  stepping- 
stone  to  a  greatness  I  may  never  attain. 
"  And  this  I  owe  to  you. 

"  Your  grateful  and  affectionate  cousin, 

"  WlLHELMINA    GALBRAITH." 

Wilhelmina  was  much  admired  at  the  little  dinner- 
party that  night.  Daisy  Lauderdale,  who  had  been  quite 
prepared  to  dislike  the  "  learned  woman,"  fell  in  love 
with  her  promptly,  and  Gavin  was  amazed  to  see  how 
demonstrative  his  divinity  could  be.  From  that  even- 
ing he  looked  at  his  cousin  with  different  eyes.  "  Mr. 
Lauderdale  only  wishes  I  had  half  as  much  in  me  as  she 
has,"  he  told  Miss  Evelyn,  with  that  instinctive  frank- 
ness of  his,  when  he  met  her  in  London  a  few  days  later. 

So  it  came  about  that  in  the  course  of  time  Brent- 
wood  received  a  letter  informing  him  that  his  wife  was 
in  Paris  with  her  father,  "  having  a  good  time,  and  prov- 
ing a  great  social  success." 

Brentwood  was  working  very  hard  just  then,  and  the 
news  made  him  feel  very  lonely.  He  had  been  thinking 
a  good  deal  of  Wilhelmina  of  late — but  not  of  a  Wil- 
helmina like  this. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

THE    SKELETON   BY   THE   FIRESIDE. 

NIGHT  had  come  at  last,  thank  God,  dear  Mother 
Night! 

Wilhelmina  had  seen  her  father  into  his  room;  now 
she  opened  the  window  in  her  own,  and  stretched  her 
arms  on  the  great  wide  sill. 

The  March  air  cut  sharply,  but  the  moonlight  fell 
in  a  silver  flood,  irradiating  the  bold  outline  of  the 
Maria  della  Salute,  and  falling  in  an  almost  unbroken 
expanse  on  the  grassy  surface  of  the  Grand  Canal. 
Away  in  the  distance  voices  were  singing  in  chorus. 


THE  SKELETON  BY  THE  FIRESIDE.         383 

Beautiful  Venice!  You  have  seen  so  much.  What 
care  you  for  one  breaking  heart  the  more  ? 

There  was  no  keeping  the  skeleton  concealed  any 
longer.  It  was  flaunting  itself  in  the  light  of  day,  and 
yet — and  yet  its  outline  was  strangely  indistinct.  What 
was  it?  It  is  a  comfort  to  classify  even  our  woes,  but 
Wilhelmina's  sorrow  escaped  all  the  bounds  of  her  pre- 
vious experience,  and  even  of  her  previous  imaginings. 
Now  it  bore  the  bearable  aspect  of  tragedy;  again  it  be- 
came a  nightmare  pantomime  or  farce.  All  the  ordinary 
laws  of  existence  seemed  to  be  suspended.  Had  she  been 
suddenly  transported  to  another  planet,  she  could  not 
have  felt  more  obsolutely  uncertain  as  to  what  might 
happen  next. 

To-night  her  father's  boastfulness  had  made  them 
both  more  ridiculous  than  usual  downstairs,  but  only  a 
few  new  arrivals  had  laughed.  Most  of  the  guests  had 
looked  disconcerted  and  sorry — sorry  for  her,  Wilhel- 
mina!  They  seemed  to  see  through  her  constant  piti- 
ful effort  to  control  him — to  keep  him  at  his  best.  The 
waiters  were  obsequious  as  ever,  but  she  was  always  try- 
ing now  not  to  see  the  meaning  glances  that  so  often 
passed  between  them. 

Yet  she  had  almost  given  up  the  idea  that  her  father 
drank.  He  did  drink,  of  course,  abundantly,  but  not 
enough  for  this.  She  thought  he  must  be  taking  some 
mysterious  drug — or  was  his  moral  nature  simply  used 
up?  Could  he,  in  the  old  days  of  his  fine  reserve,  have 
seen  himself  as  he  was  now — seen  how  he  ate  and  drank 
and  walked — ah!  Wilhelmina  shuddered.  To  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  she  realized  what  his  sufferings  would 
have  been.  To  a  man  of  his  sensitive  refinement,  the 
vision  would  have  meant — ju^t  hell.  How  dared  she 
think  of  her  own  humiliation  in  comparison?  If  he 
ever  woke  up  and  felt — and  yet,  oh,  if  he  only  would 
wake  up  and  feel ! 

Drawing  the  window-curtains,  she  undressed  and 
went  to  bed.  If  only  they  were  not  so  far  from  home ! 
It  was  terrible  to  be  among  strangers  at  a  time  like 
this.  But,  for  her  father,  strangers  had  ceased  to  exist. 
He  had  offered  that  evening  to  buy  the  watch  of  a  gen- 


384  WINDYHAUGH. 

tleman  he  had  never  seen  before;  and,  ignoring  a  quiet 
snub,  had  raised  his  bid  three  times !  Wilhelmina  buried 
her  face  in  the  pillows  and  groaned.  To  think  of  that 
whipper-snapper  daring  to  snub  George  Galbraith! 

Her  dread  was  that  the  manager  would  speak  to  her 
on  the  subject,  and  so  deprive  her  of  all  power  to  per- 
suade herself  that  her  sensitiveness  was  exaggerating  an 
insignificant  eccentricity;  but  her  father  was  running 
up  a  lordly  bill,  and  the  manager  knew  him  of  old. 

It  was  only  since  they  came  to  Venice  that  things 
had  been  so  bad.  They  had  lived  very  quietly  on  the 
Riviera,  and  Wilhelmina's  chief  anxiety  had  been  her  fa- 
ther's occasional  trips  to  Monte  Carlo,  where  his  luck 
seemed  phenomenal. 

It  was  the  irony  of  the  situation  that  affected  her 
most.  If  ever  a  man  had  seemed  equal  to  any  and  every 

occasion,  that  man  was  her  father,  and  now !  On 

the  landing-stage  that  day  she  had  called  to  him,  and  he 
had  seemed  almost  unable  to  turn.  In  an  effort  to  come 
to  her,  he  had  made  a  great  shaky  circuit,  and  the  gon- 
doliers had  laughed!  Sometimes  when  he  was  almost 
his  old  self,  talking  quite  sensibly,  though  always  with 
that  queer  thick  utterance,  he  would  forget  a  word,  and 
his  distress  at  the  lapse  was  indescribably  painful. 

"  Oh,  my  Father !  "  sobbed  Wilhelmina,  "  my  great 
strong  beautiful  Father!  God  help  you,  God  help  you! 
God  help  us  all!" 

"  If  you  should  ever  want  me  I  would  come  from  the 
ends  of  the  earth." 

Wilhelmina  was  sometimes  tempted  to  take  her  hus- 
band at  his  word ;  but  he  could  not  travel,  like  Uriel,  on 
a  shaft  of  light,  and  she  felt  that  a  crisis  was  at  hand. 
Things  simply  could  not  go  on  as  they  were  going  now. 

When  she  went  down  to  breakfast  next  morning  she 
was  startled  and  distressed  to  see  Mr.  Lauderdale  in  the 
room.  She  caught  his  eye  for  a  moment,  and  glanced 
away  again,  hoping  that  he  would  not  recognise  her. 
In  truth,  he  might  well  have  failed  to  do  so,  for  she 
looked  older  by  years  than  when  he  had  met  her  in 
Paris,  some  six  months  before;  but  he  had  noticed  their 


THE  SKELETON  BY  THE  FIRESIDE.          385 

name  in  the  Visitors'  Book  the  night  before,  and  the 
manager  had  told  him  how  strangely  Mr.  Galbraith  was 
behaving.  "  I  am  sorry  for  the  young  lady,  sir." 

Mr.  Lauderdale  was  one  of  the  few  people  who  had 
always  succeeded  in  maintaining  a  contempt  for  George 
Galbraith;  he  had  no  wish  to  be  thrown  with  him  under 
any  circumstances,  and  he  might  have  followed  Wilhel- 
mina's  lead  if  her  face  had  been  less  pitiful.  He  would 
not  have  liked  his  Daisy  to  look  like  that. 

So  he  was  quite  merciless,  shaking  hands  with  her 
gravely,  and  asking  leave  to  share  her  table,  "  as  you 
and  I  are  the  only  members  of  our  respective  parties 
energetic  enough  to  come  down  to  breakfast.  How  is 
your  father  ? " 

Her  face  turned  so  white  that  he  regretted  introduc- 
ing the  subject  before  she  had  drunk  her  coffee.  "  He 
is  not  very  well." 

This  was  the  first  time  she  had  admitted  even  so 
much. 

"  Perhaps  the  climate  doesn't  suit  him.  Why  not  go 
home?" 

"If  he  only  would!" 

"  Shall  I  go  and  have  a  talk  with  him? " 

"  I  think  not,  thank  you." 

He  did  not  reply,  and  she  looked  up  to  see  if  he  was 
offended.  Mr.  Lauderdale  was  a  mere  man  of  the  world, 
but — how  good  a  mere  man  of  the  world  can  be!  Wil- 
helmina  suddenly  resolved  to  make  the  plunge.  "  You 
are  very  kind,"  she  said  nervously.  "  I  ought  not  to 
let  you  share  my  burden,  but — it  has  come  to  that.  I 
wish  you  would  have  a  talk  with  him,  and — and  ad- 
vise me." 

Mr.  Lauderdale's  face  was  very  grave  when  he  joined 
her  after  the  interview. 

"  Has  your  father  been  drinking  ?  "  he  said  quietly. 

How  she  blessed  him  for  asking  the  question  straight 
out  like  that,  without  any  "  tactful "  beating  about  the 
bush! 

Yet  her  breath  came  very  quick  as  she  answered. 
"  He  does  drink  a  good  deal,  but  not  enough  to  account 
for — for  that.  I  have  seen  lots  of  men  drink  more.  At 


386  WINDYHAUGH. 

least,"  she  added  with  characteristic  honesty,  "I  have 
seen  one  or  two  men  drink  more.  I  sometimes  think  he 
takes  some  drug." 

"  Perhaps.  I  am  quite  sure  he  ought  to  be  at  home, 
but  he  seems  very  unwilling  to  go." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  apparently  he  has  plenty  of  money  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  how  he  came  by  it,"  she  panted.  "  We 
have  always  been  poor." 

"  Do  you  know  when  he  last  paid  his  bill  ? " 

"  I  don't  think  he  has  paid  it  at  all  since  we  came 
here.  The  manager  has  known  him  a  long  time.  I  hope 
my  father  realizes  how  large  the  bill  will  be." 

"  Shall  I  suggest  to  the  manager  that  he  should  ask 
him  to  pay?  It  seems  to  me  your  father  wants  some- 
thing to  rouse  him." 

Wilhelmina  assented,  and  that  afternoon  the  man- 
ager very  civilly  suggested  that,  if  it  would  not  incon- 
venience Mr.  Galbraith 

But  it  did  inconvenience  Mr.  Galbraith  very  much. 
He  burst  into  one  of  his  storms  of  rage,  and  for  one 
awful  moment  Wilhelmina  was  afraid  that  he  would 
knock  the  manager  down.  He  had  never  heard  such  a 
confounded  piece  of  impertinence.  He  could  buy  up  the 
blessed  hotel  a  dozen  times  over ;  but  it  did  not  suit  him 
to  pay  just  now.  He  had  hundreds — thousands — com- 
ing in  any  day.  Send  up  a  bottle  of  that  Veuve  Clicquot! 
He  was  going  out. 

Wilhelmina  went  with  him,  trembling.  The  after- 
noon was  cold,  but  he  would  not  put  on  his  overcoat,  and, 
as  they  drifted  along  in  their  gondola,  she  shivered  with 
nervousness  and  chill. 

All  night  she  heard  him  coughing  on  the  other  side 
of  the  wall,  and,  when  she  went  into  his  room  next 
morning,  an  extraordinary  change  had  come  over  him. 

"  We  are  beggars,  Wilhelmina,"  he  said,  "  simply  beg- 
gars! I  don't  know  what  is  to  become  of  us." 

If  it  had  been  heartrending  to  see  him  self-confident, 
it  was  worse  to  see  him  so  abject.  With  all  a  mother's 
tenderness,  she  gathered  him  in  her  arms,  assuring  him 
that,  if  he  would  only  come  home,  all  would  yet  be  well ; 


THE  SKELETON  BY  THE  FIRESIDE.         387 

but  it  was  useless  to  contend  with  his  overwhelming  de- 
pression. How  were  they  to  get  home?  he  asked.  He 
declared  now  that  he  had  only  a  few  francs  in  the  world. 

Wilhelmina  resolved  to  avail  herself  of  Brentwood's 
hundred  pounds :  her  scruples  seemed  very  small  in  the 
stress  of  present  events:  and — after  wiring  to  Fergus 
Dalrymple  for  instructions — Mr.  Lauderdale  became 
surety  for  the  remainder. 

It  was  a  week  before  George  Galbraith  was  strong 
enough  to  travel.  Then  he  emerged  from  the  blackest 
depth  of  his  depression,  but — mercifully  perhaps — he 
never  quite  regained  the  old  self-confidence.  He  allowed 
Wilhelmina  to  make  all  arrangements  for  the  journey, 
and  he  accepted  them  with  a  patient  apathy  that  touched 
her  profoundly.  Mr.  Lauderdale  was  differently  affected 
by  his  attitude. 

"  Good-bye,  Miss  Galbraith,"  he  said,  when  he  had 
seen  to  the  luggage,  and  had  helped  her  father  into  the 
high  carriage.  "  You  must  not  regret  that  you  were 
forced  to  take  me  a  little  bit  into  your  confidence.  If 
my  girl  is  ever  in  trouble  and  her  dad  is  gone,  I  should 
like  to  think  some  old  man  felt  for  her  as  I  have  felt 
for  you." 

Wilhelmina  could  not  speak.  Her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears. 

They  slept  at  Milan  that  night,  and  next  morning 
her  father  insisted  that  she  should  go  to  see  the  picture 
and  the  cathedral.  She  was  in  no  mood  for  sight-seeing, 
but  to  humour  him  she  went. 

Weary  and  preoccupied,  she  entered  the  sacred  room 
and  for  ten  minutes  sat  looking  at  the  picture  with  un- 
seeing eyes.  Its  general  outlines  had  been  familiar  from 
her  babyhood,  and  at  first  she  saw  nothing  more  in  the 
original  than  in  the  smug  copies  round  about. 

Then,  all  at  once,  the  battered  fresco  began  to  live. 
Its  blemishes  disappeared.  It  stood  out  quick  with  in- 
terest, while  she  and  her  sorrows  shrank  almost  into 
nothingness.  The  old  story  was  real — the  realest  thing 
in  the  world. 

Why  had  no   one  told  her  of  the  landscape   seen 


388  WINDYHAUGH. 

through  the  window — the  wondrous  suggestion  of  the 
peaceful  days  gone  by?  What  a  world  of  expression  in 
those  two  hands,  the  left  so  full  of  resignation,  the  right 

of  instinctive  recoil !  "  Father,  if  it  be  possible !  " 

But  it  was  not  possible.  The  tragedy  had  to  be  faced. 
The  hour  of  doom  was  just  as  much  in  the  order  of 
things  as  the  sunlit  mornings  on  the  Galilean  hills.  And 
we  don't  know  why,  we  don't  know  why.  We  can  only 
live  on  and  trust. 

The  first  sight  of  the  cathedral  jarred  on  her  mood. 
It  was  like  a  scene  out  of  the  Arabian  Nights.  But  as 
soon  as  she  entered  the  door,  her  feeling  changed.  As 
if  disdaining  the  exquisite  filigree  of  the  spires  and  but- 
tresses outside,  these  great  columns  rose  up — up — up — 
in  a  way  that  satisfied  her  inmost  soul.  "  God ! "  they 
seemed  to  say.  "  God !  Nothing  but  God !  " 

Slowly  and  reverently  Wilhelmina  walked  up  the 
nave.  The  level  rays  of  the  March  sun  struck  through 
the  yellow  windows  on  the  great  brass  crucifix.  A  burst 
of  music  soared  up  among  the  arches.  Her  heart  swelled 
with  triumph.  In  that  one  morning  she  had  seen  the 
wheel  of  time  spin  round  through  centuries.  Vicisti 
Galil&e ! 

And  there  He  hung  on  the  Cross. 

Oh,  Man  of  Sorrows!  Oh,  Light  of  the  World! 
What  wonder  that  men  have  fallen  in  adoration  at  Thy 
feet  ?  "  Oh,  Lamb  of  God  that  takest  away  the  sins  of 
the  world — 

"  Grant  us  Thy  peace!" 

Wilhelmina  was  very  weary  with  the  struggle.  It 
was  time  a  great  wave  of  emotion  should  lift  her  towards 
the  shore. 


CHAPTEE  LVL 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW. 

"YouR  father  will  sleep  now,"  said  the  great  man 
quietly.     "Sit  down." 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW.     389 

He  looked  straight  across  at  her,  reading  her  face, 
her  attitude,  her  involuntary  movements,  like  a  book. 

"  You  must  have  had  a  trying  time." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  answer. 

"  Your  father  is  very  ill.  I  don't  mean  to  say  there 
is  any  question  of  imminent  danger;  but  he  is  very  ill, 
and  the  illness  must  have  been  coming  on  for  many 
months.  I  want  you  to  realize  that  a  thousand  little 
things,  which  may  have  struck  you  as  moral  failings, 
were  really  symptoms  of  which  you  may  talk  to  me  as 
frankly  as  of  a  cough  or  a  headache." 

He  was  pleased  to  see  the  gratitude  in  her  eyes. 

"  And  now  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Thus  encouraged,  she  told  him  more  of  the  story  than 
she  had  ever  expected  to  tell  in  this  world.  What  a  re- 
lief the  telling  was ! — and  what  a  comfort  to  see  the  mat- 
ter-of-fact way  in  which  he  took  it! 

"  Will  he  get  better? "  she  ventured  pitifully  at  last. 

"  Under  favourable  conditions,  he  may  improve  very 
much,  but  the  truth  is,  his  is  not  a  suitable  case  for 
home  nursing.  Don't  you  think  you  had  better  trust 
him  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !     I  will  take  such  care  of  him." 

"  And  what  about  yourself  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right." 

"  So  young  people  always  say  when  a  breakdown 
threatens:  when  the  breakdown  actually  comes,  I  don't 
notice  that  they  look  upon  it  with  the  same  philosophy." 

She  smiled.  "  It  has  been  the  travelling — the  pub- 
licity— that  has  knocked  me  up.  Now  that  we  are  home 
— Windyhaugh  seems  like  a  haven  of  rest  in  comparison ; 
and  we  have  a  wise  old  servant  there  who  has  known  my 
father  from  his  boyhood.  She  worships  him." 

The  great  man  reflected  that  it  would  take  all  the 
old  servant's  worship  to  carry  her  through.  "  But  you 
have  told  me  of  fits  of  violence.  They  may  not  return 
— this  convulsion  must  have  left  him  weaker — but  I 
can't  guarantee  that  they  won't." 

"  I  have  thought  about  that.  At  worst  I  could  get 
our  old  gardener's  son  to  help." 

"  You  could  have  a  trained  attendant." 


390  WINDYHAUGH. 

She  hesitated.  "  I  am  afraid  we  can't  afford  it.  We 
are  very  poor,  absolutely,  literally  poor.  That  is  partly 
why  I  can't  send  him  to  you." 

She  did  not  say  that  she  could  not  bear  to  have 
strangers  see  her  father  in  his  present  state — strangers 
who  had  never  known  him  in  his  prime !  Her  great  hope, 
too,  was  that  his  moral  nature  would  wake  up  again. 
And  if  it  did,  she  must  be  there  to  tell  him  how  she 
loved  him,  to  comfort  him  in  his  remorse,  to  help  him  to 
rise  above  the  selfishness  that  had  blighted  his  beauti- 
ful life. 

The  great  man  was  watching  her  face.  There  were 
good  strong  lines  in  it,  but  were  they  strong  enough  for 
this?  The  fiat  had  gone  forth.  George  Galbraith  must 
drink  the  cup  of  dissolution  to  the  dregs.  He  would 
not  suffer  much.  He  would  drink  the  cup  by  proxy; 
and  his  proxy  was  this  fair  young  girl. 

The  doctor  tried  to  break  to  her  something  of  what 
she  might  expect,  but  all  he  said  only  added  fuel  to  the 
flame  of  her  love  and  loyalty.  How  our  little  grievances 
and  humiliations  melt  away  in  the  presence  of  that  great 
word,  Death! 

The  doctor  was  essentially  a  sane  man;  his  view  of 
life  was  eminently  physiological;  but,  as  he  looked  at 
Wilhelmina,  his  mind  fell  back  on  the  words  of  another 
physician — "  Ah,  long  illness  is  the  real  vampirism ; 
think  of  living  a  year  or  two  after  one  is  dead,  by  suck- 
ing the  life-blood  out  of  a  frail  young  creature  at  one's 
bedside!  Well,  souls  grow  white,  as  well  as  cheeks,  in 
these  holy  duties:  one  that  goes  in  a  nurse,  may  come 
out  an  angel.  God  bless  all  good  women !  " 

"  You  see,  doctor,"  Wilhelmina  said  gravely,  "  I  have 
no  other  claims  upon  me.  I  can't  help  looking  on 
this  as  the  thing  I  have  got  to  do." 

"Very  well,"  he  said  abruptly,  "try  it."  He  rose 
from  his  chair.  "Who  is  your  local  doctor,  down  at 
Queensmains  ? " 

Wilhelmina  mentioned  the  name. 

"  Ah,"  he  said  with  the  air  that  only  a  very  great  man 
can  assume.  "  I  don't  seem  to  have  heard  of  him  some- 
how. However,  I  will  write  to  him.  And  now  I  have 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW.     391 

something  to  say  to  you.  We  are  all  students,  you  know, 
we  doctors,  and  this  illness  of  your  father's  is  one  that 
interests  us  very  much.  It  will  be  a  real  favour  to  me 
if  you  will  write  occasionally,  and  tell  me  how  he  gets 
on."  He  smiled.  "  And  you  can  just  throw  in  a  sen- 
tence, you  know,  to  say  how  you  are  yourself."  Then 
he  paused  to  reflect.  "  It  is  quite  possible,  even  prob- 
able, that  you  may  have  no  more  acute  anxiety;  and, 
for  the  rest — you  must  not  let  yourself  suffer  too  much. 
Just  bear  in  mind  that  your  father  is  growing  old — 
not  slowly  and  imperceptibly  as  some  men  do ;  but,  as  it 
were,  in  a  fiery  chariot.  I  expect  he  has  lived  intensely, 
and  the  end  will  just  be  in  keeping  with  all  the  rest.  I 
don't  know  that  he  is  to  be  pitied.  We  can't  enjoy  our 
pennyworth  and  keep  our  penny." 

Wilhelmina  saw  a  blurred  image  of  the  great  man's 
figure  as  he  drove  away.  His  news  had  been  bad,  bad 
— and  yet  how  he  had  lightened  the  burden !  There  are 
those  who,  passing  through  the  valley  of  Baca,  make 
it  a  well. 

So,  step  by  step,  Wilhelmina  went  down  with  her 
father  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow.  There  is  no  edu- 
cation in  life  to  compare  with  such  a  journey;  but  what 
comfort  is  there  in  that  for  the  suffering  of  the  one  who 
must  go  ? 

She  tried  to  prepare  Ann  by  letter  for  the  change  in 
her  beloved  master,  but  the  shock  of  the  meeting  was 
very  great.  For  days  the  old  woman  was  almost  speech- 
less with  resentment  against  fate.  Then  she  bent  her 
back  to  the  burden,  and  bore  it  nobly. 

In  the  finest  sense  of  the  words,  she  had  always  been 
"  one  of  the  family,"  and  there  was  comfort  in  the  way 
she  accepted  this,  not  as  Wilhelmina's  sorrow,  but  as  her 
own  sorrow.  "  Dinna  tell  me,"  she  said,  when  her  young 
mistress  spoke  of  hope.  "  He'll  never  be  himsel'  again 
i'  this  warld.  What  do  we  want  wi'  yon  callant  aboot 
the  place?  Tell  him  we'll  send  for  him  gin  we  want 
him.  Do  ye  think  he's  fit  to  haud  his  tongue  when 
a'body'sspeirin'?" 

So  the  young  doctor  was  not  encouraged  to  pay  un- 


392  WINDYHAUGH. 

necessary  visits.  Wilhelmina  learned  from  him  how  to 
administer  morphia  hypodermically,  and  this  proved 
sufficient  to  control  the  patient's  diminishing  attacks  of 
excitement.  How  wonderfully  it  soothed  him!  Almost 
every  day  the  two  faithful  attendants  helped  him  out  on 
the  terrace,  and  at  first  they  hoped  that  his  native  air 
was  doing  him  good.  He  grew  stouter,  and  his  physical 
health  improved.  But  it  soon  became  evident  that  his 
mind  was  growing  feebler,  and  his  efforts  to  speak  were 
a  painful  thing  to  see.  No  need  to  talk  of  all  those 
women  went  through.  God  save  all  we  love  from  such 
an  end  as  this! 

Mr.  Carmichael  was  the  only  visitor  who  was  allowed 
to  see  him.  Had  not  Mr.  Carmichael  admired  him  too  ? 
To  her  friends,  Wilhelmina  wrote  that  her  father  was  an 
invalid,  and  that  she  was  nursing  him  with  Ann's  help. 
There  was  little  in  the  words  to  suggest  what  they  were 
actually  enduring. 

And  yet  how  acclimatized  one  becomes  to  an  atmos- 
phere of  sorrow!  Wilhelmina's  cheerfulness  was  a  con- 
stant source  of  amazement  to  Mr.  Carmichael.  She 
began  to  read  Latin  again,  and  when  she  felt  herself 
growing  too  despondent,  she  invented  gymnastic  exer- 
cises, and  raced  round  the  garden  in  the  gloaming.  Any- 
thing to  make  the  blood  circulate,  and  drive  away  the 
morbid  humours. 

She  made  an  early  opportunity  of  having  a  long  talk 
with  Mr.  Macintyre  about  their  affairs.  He  told  her 
Mr.  Brentwood  had  placed  another  hundred  pounds  at 
her  disposal,  and  that  it  was  quite  impossible  for  her  to 
live  even  at  Windyhaugh  without  accepting  it.  She 
formed  and  rejected  a  dozen  plans  for  earning  money, 
and  then  quietly  swallowed  the  bitter  draught.  "  My 
father  is  very  ill,"  she  wrote,  "  and  I  am  compelled  to 
accept  your  kind  loan — or  gift,  if  it  must  be  so.  It  is 
something  to  be  free  at  least  from  money  anxiety,  and 
it  is  much  to  be  able  to  devote  myself  entirely  to  him  in 
his  great  need. 

Brentwood  wrote  by  return,  offering  to  come  home, 
but  although  she  had  been  compelled  to  accept  his  char- 
ity herself,  she  would  not  throw  her  father  on  his  mercy, 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW.     393 

and  her  speedy  reply  dissuaded  him  even  more  decidedly 
than  she  had  intended. 

She  wrote  once  to  the  great  specialist;  but  her  letter 
was  so  brief  and  to  the  point  that  it  failed  to  recall  to  a 
busy  man  the  charm  of  her  personality,  and  it  required 
no  definite  reply. 

At  midsummer  Miss  Evelyn  proposed  a  visit.  Wil- 
helmina  all  but  declined  to  have  her,  but  in  due  course 
she  arrived,  bringing  with  her  some  pretty  toilettes,  a 
guitar,  a  budget  of  news,  and  a  breezy  whiff  from  the 
world  outside. 

"  Poor  Miss  Evelyn !  "  Wilhelmina  said  when  she  met 
her  at  the  station.  "  You  little  know  the  desert  island 
to  which  you  are  coming." 

Miss  Evelyn  stroked  the  pale  face.  "  You  want  me 
to  cheer  you  up  a  bit,  don't  you?  I  am  not  such  a  fool 
as  I  look  in  a  sick-room.  Perhaps  I  may  be  able  to 
cheer  your  father  too." 

Alas,  alas! 

She  put  on  her  prettiest  gown,  and  her  brightest 
smile,  but  George  Galbraith  did  not  know  his  old  friend. 
And  she — would  she  ever  have  known  him?  He  seemed 
to  her  a  ghastly  caricature  of  a  helpless  infant.  "  Pretty, 
pretty,"  he  gurgled,  pointing  to  the  rose  on  her  breast, 
and,  smiling,  she  put  it  in  his  hand,  but  a  moment  later 
he  had  forgotten  and  dropped  it.  When  she  had  left  the 
room — smiling  still — she  burst  into  such  a  tempest  of 
tears  as  Wilhelmina  had  never  seen.  If  only  she  too 
could  cry  like  that ! 

"  What  a  mockery !  "  cried  Miss  Evelyn  at  last.  "  He 
of  all  men !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  That,  Vilma,  is  the  one  man  in  the  world  for  whom 
I  have  ever  cared — two  straws !  " 

Wilhelmina  nodded  gravely.  She  had  never  formu- 
lated the  idea,  but  of  course  that  was  why  she  had  al- 
lowed Miss  Evelyn  to  see  her  father. 

"  Has  he  ever— realized  it  all  ?  " 

"I  think  not.  I  kept  hoping  that  he  would,  but  I 
fear  he  never  will  now.  Don't  cry,  dear.  One  has  just 
got  to  bear  it." 


394  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Have  you  morphia  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  he  doesn't  often  need  it  now." 

"  And  you  are  never  tempted  to  overdo  it  ?  " 

Wilhelmiiia  shook  her  head  resolutely.     "  If  we  knew 

what  it  all  meant,  I  might  be  tempted.     Sometimes  I 

think  he  and  I  are  just  the  plaything  of  fate.     And  yet, 

who  knows  ?     God  may  be  behind  it  all.     The  off-chance 

is  worth  a  deal  of  endurance." 
There  was  a  long  silence. 
"  And   now,"   Miss   Evelyn   said   slowly,   "  we   shall 

never  know  whether  he  did  it  or  not." 
]STo  need  to  ask  what  she  meant. 
"  Never,"  said  Wilhelmina  quietly.     "  You  would  like 

to  leave  to-morrow,  wouldn't  you?     Shall  I  order  the 

trap?" 

It  was  in  late  autumn,  when  the  cooing  murmur  of 
wind  and  wave  was  transformed  into  a  constant  moan, 
that  her  nerve  began  to  give  way.  At  first  she  was  mere- 
ly depressed,  but  after  a  time  sleep  forsook  her,  and  the 
wakeful  hours  were  filled  with  a  nameless  terror.  The 
old  anguish  of  her  childhood  had  returned,  but  it  was  not 
hell  that  she  was  afraid  of  now.  What  was  it?  She 
could  not  have  told,  and  yet  the  fear  was  there.  Could 
one  go  on  enduring  this  and  keep  sane? 

One  night,  in  sheer  desperation,  she  took  the  little 
syringe  and  injected  into  her  arm  half  the  dose  she  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  giving  her  father.  For  a  mo- 
ment she  waited,  then  her  heart  rushed  off  in  a  frantic 
chase;  but  a  minute  later  it  settled  down,  and  a  blissful 
calm  came  over  all  her  faculties.  Her  mind  could  no 
more  grapple  with  worries  and  terrors  than  her  hand 
could  grasp  the  tiny  instrument  by  her  side. 

"  How  heavenly !  "  thought  Wilhelmina.  "  I  must 
never  do  this  again."  Then  she  floated  off  on  a  tide  of 
boundless  well-being. 

But  Mr.  Galbraith  lived  on  for  many  months  after 
that. 


WRESTLING.  395 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

WRESTLING. 

"  Miss  GALBRAITH  has  taken  to  morphia,"  said  the 
doctor  with  the  self-satisfied  air  of  one  who  has  made 
a  neat  diagnosis. 

Mr.  Carmichael  started.  "Miss  Galbraith?  Non- 
sense!" 

"  Fact." 

"  Is  she  sleeping  badly  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  She  dislikes  me — never  lets  me  ap- 
proach the  subject  of  her  health.  If  she  takes  it  in 
moderation,  it  will  do  her  no  harm." 

But  to  Mr.  Carmichael — as  to  Wilhelmina  herself — 
it  seemed  that  to  take  morphia  at  all  for  mental  or 
nervous  suffering  was  a  sin.  "  Does  she  know  you  sus- 
pect it  ? " 

"  No." 

"  And  I  am  quite  sure  that  nobody  else  will."  Mr. 
Carmichael  flashed  on  the  young  man  the  full  light  of 
his  honest  eyes.  "  God  knows  it  is  no  wonder ! " 

"  Oh,  no !  Her  father  ought  to  have  been  in  an 
asylum  for  the  last  year.  And  it  has  been  such  wasted 
labour.  A  trained  nurse  would  have  done  it  without  all 
the  nerve  wear  and  tear." 

"  True.  To  what  purpose  is  this  waste  ?  And  yet  I 
sometimes  think  it  is  the  perfume  of  the  wasted  labour 
that  keeps  the  whole  world  sweet." 

Mr.  Carmichael  was  on  his  way  to  Edinburgh,  having 
promised  to  lunch  with  a  friend ;  but  he  sent  a  telegram 
instead,  and  walked  out  to  Windyhaugh.  Perhaps  his 
views  on  the  subject  of  opium-eating  were  provincial,  but 
he  could  not  rest.  If  George  Galbraith  would  only  die ! 
It  was  awful  to  see  a  woman  make  so  brave  a  fight 
and  fall  at  last — and  when  that  woman  was  Wilhel- 
mina  ! 

He  found  her  out  of  doors,  vigorously  playing  a  ten- 
nis ball  against  the  high  wall  of  the  fruit-garden.  She 
26 


396  WINDYHAUGH. 

laughed  half  shamefacedly  when  she  saw  him.  "Now 
you  know  what  a  baby  I  am,"  she  said. 

"  You  are  extremely  sensible ;  but  I  would  rather  see 
you  playing  with  a  fellow-baby.  For  the  sake  of  your 
friends  you  must  not  bring  too  great  a  strain  to  bear 
on  yourself.  Are  you  still  determined  not  to  let  your 
father  go  ? " 

She  raised  sad  eyes.  "  I  must  not  fail  in  all  the  re- 
lations of  life." 

"  And  won't  you  go  away  yourself  for  a  week  or 
so?" 

"  Think  if  he  woke  up  and  missed  me !  " 

"  Then  why  not  ask  someone  to  come  and  stay  with 
you?" 

"  There  is  no  one^who  could  come — who  would  not 
worry  rather  than  rest  me.  Besides,  we  are  too  poor  to 
entertain  even  very  modestly.  Some  day  you  may  find 
me  scouring  the  doorstep." 

"  Making  '  that  and  the  action  fine '  ? " 

"  The  action,  I  hope.  Ann  would  say  she  '  had  her 
doots  o'  the  doorstep ' !  Indeed  I  am  much  better  than 
I  was  a  month  ago." 

She  met  his  eyes  so  brightly  and  honestly  that  he 
went  away  reassured.  "  The  doctor  is  at  fault  this 
time,"  he  said. 

But  the  doctor  was  not  at  fault.  Wilhelmina  was 
having  a  hard  battle  with  the  enemy.  At  present  the 
advantage  lay  with  her,  and  she  felt  all  the  exhilaration 
of  victory.  She  would  invite  no  one  to  share  her  bur- 
den; she  did  not  wish  to  have  the  conditions  of  the 
battle  made  easier ;  she  must  beat  the  enemy  on  his  own 
ground.  A  woman  is  much  slower  than  a  man  to  learn 
the  full  value  of  the  prayer — Lead  us  not  into  tempta- 
tion. "  You  wanted  a  sin  to  conquer,"  Wilhelmina  said 
to  herself  defiantly.  "You  found  life  too  easy!  Here 
is  your  chance  to  grow  strong !  " 

If  only  the  flesh  had  proved  a  better  ally!  She  did 
all  in  her  power  to  reinforce  it,  and  the  crisp  frosty 
weather  aided  her  efforts  mightily;  but  the  poor  flesh 
had  been  heavily  overtaxed,  and  was  sorely  unequal  to 
the  combat.  From  many  a  cruel  struggle  Wilhelmina 


WRESTLING.  397 

came  forth  victor,  but,  sooner  or  later,  there  always  came 
a  day  when  she  yielded.  "  It  was  worth  it,"  she  would 
say,  as  the  delicious  languor  stole  over  the  jarring  nerves; 
but  when  full  consciousness  returned,  and  her  moral 
nature  once  more  took  the  reins,  she  would  cry  in  sore 
humiliation,  "  It  was  not  worth  it !  It  was  not  worth 
it !  "  To  redeem  that  failure  she  must  meet  the  enemy 
in  his  full  force  again. 

She  smiled  bitterly  to  think  how  she  had  looked  upon 
the  fear  of  hell  as  a  motive  force  beneath  the  contempt 
of  a  full-grown  soul.  If  only  the  fear  of  hell  would  re- 
strain her  now!  Were  not  the  shattered  nerves  of  the 
opium-eater  a  hell  upon  earth?  Already  she  felt  her 
will-power  growing  weaker.  What  if  the  day  came  when 
it  would  fail  her  altogether?  Could  she  even  now  re- 
trace her  steps? 

Long  since  she  had  experienced  the  communion  of 
saints.  She  was  tasting  now  the  communion  of  sinners. 
"  You  didn't  pray  hard  enough,  Hugh."  How  little  she 
had  known  of  temptation  then !  She  seemed  now  to  feel 
the  great  struggle  going  on  all  around  her — the  whole 
creation  groaning  and  travailing.  If  she  did  not  con- 
quer here  and  now,  who  should  conquer  anywhere  ?  Were 
sins  never  conquered,  then?  The  thought  was  too  ter- 
rible. Obviously  the  victory  over  this  temptation  was 
the  contribution  she  was  called  upon  to  make  towards 
the  salvation  of  the  world.  Her  mighty  dreams  of  sav- 
ing mankind  were  narrowed  down  to  this.  How  much 
easier  to  preach  Christ  on  the  housetops  than  to  live 
Christ  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  one's  soul!  But  if 
she  failed  now — the  spiritual  world  was  a  chimera, 
God  a  myth.  Where  should  God  be  if  not  in  her  soul? 
Verily  His  Kingdom  cometh  not  without  observa- 
tion. 

"  How  does  one  preach  to  the  masses  ?  By  being  such 
a  woman  as  Wilhelmina  is  becoming." 

What  were  all  great  schemes  compared  to  this?  It 
was  only  by  being  good,  by  ringing  true,  by  rooting  out 
the  besetting  sin  that  lurked  beneath  the  fair  flower  of 
one's  virtues,  that  one  could  be  sure  of  helping  others. 
They  would  never  hear  of  the  struggle,  and  yet  it  must 


398  WINDYHAUGH. 

affect  their  lives  more  than  all  one's  fair  words.*  "  For 
the  sake  of  those  whom  you  wish  to  benefit."  ..."  For 
their  sakes  I  sanctify — I  consecrate  myself."  ..."  We 
are  God's  windows  " — shall  we  shut  out  the  light  ? 

A  great  motive  this.  One  of  the  few  motives  worth 
naming  in  the  fight  with  imminent  temptation.  Yet 
even  this  did  not  always  avail.  With  the  awful  realism 
of  her  father's  protracted  death-in-life  constantly  before 
her,  it  was  hard  to  keep  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ideal. 
"  There  are  worse  links  than  a  sin  between  the  soul  and 
God,"  Mr.  Carmichael  said  in  his  sermon  one  day,  "  and 
what  link  can  compare  with  a  conquered  sin  ?  No  doubt 
there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  a  successful  Exeter  Hall 
meeting,  but  one  cannot  help  feeling  that  the  joy  is 
greater  when  only  one  poor  human  soul  on  earth  is  at 
all  aware  that  anything  has  happened." 

One  night  the  old  homestead  was  vibrating  to  the 
storm  like  a  lyre  in  the  hands  of  a  musician.  Wilhel- 
mina  had  been  sleeping  better  of  late,  but  to-night  she 
could  not  sleep.  She  was  struggling  to  read,  struggling 
not  to  think  of  the  little  instrument  of  peace  on  the  shelf 
above  her;  but  her  whole  being  tingled  with  longing. 
"  Even  if  I  conquer  to-night,"  she  thought,  "  I  shall  fail 
to-morrow — what  is  the  use  of  striving  ?  " 

The  sound  of  wheels  on  the  carriage  drive  startled 
her.  A  vehicle  was  stopping  at  the  door.  It  was  past 
midnight,  and  a  curious  superstitious  awe  came  over 
her  shaken  nerves.  But  she  pulled  herself  together  and 
opened  the  window.  "  Who  is  there  ?  "  she  asked  firmly. 

"It  is  I.  Mr.  Carmichael.  Mr.  Darsie  is  very  ill. 
Can  you  come  ?  " 

Wilhelmina  glanced  at  her  father's  sleeping,  expres- 
sionless face:  she  had  ceased  to  hope  for  any  change  in 
that.  Then  she  said  a  word  to  Ann,  wrapped  herself  in 
a  cloak,  and  joined  the  minister.  He  gave  her  a  few 
details  as  they  drove  along,  but  the  noise  of  the  storm 
was  so  great  she  could  scarcely  hear.  Mr.  Darsie  had 
been  ailing  for  some  weeks,  and  now  the  doctor  thought 
the  end  had  come. 

*  This  idea  is  beautifully  and  forcibly  expressed  in  Dean  Paget's 
address  on  self-consecration  in  The  Hallowing  of  Work. 


WRESTLING.  399 

The  old  man  lay  supported  by  pillows  in  his  great 
four-post  bed.  He  looked  ill  and  anxious,  but  his  face 
was  still  his  own.  What  a  contrast  to  the  face  she  had 
left  behind! 

"  He  is  beginning  to  wander,"  said  the  doctor  softly. 
"  He  has  been  talking  of  his  visit  to  London." 

"Mr.  Darsie,"  said  the  minister,  "this  is  Wilhel- 
mina.  .  .  .  You  know  Wilhelmina  ? " 

"  Williamina — Williamina "  The  old  man's  hand 

groped  feebly  towards  her,  as  he  struggled  to  express  his 
thoughts.  Did  the  effort  recall  the  day  long  ago  when 
he  had  striven  in  vain  to  reach  her  across  the  gulf  of 
the  years  ? 

The  anxiety  passed  from  his  face,  and  the  tense  mus- 
cles relaxed.  "  It's  getting  late,"  he  said  feebly.  "  We'd 
best  be  on  the  road." 

The  storm  had  lessened  when  they  drove  home. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Carmichael  at  last,  "we  could 
scarcely  have  wished  our  friend  a  better  passing  than 
that." 

Wilhelmina  brushed  away  the  tears.  "  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful death.  I  am  so  glad  you  fetched  me.  And  yet " 
— a  hard  little  sob  broke  through  her  voice — "  how  cruel 
it  seems ! " 

"  You  poor  brave  girl !  Courage,  dear !  The  end  is 
near;  and,  when  it  comes,  your  father  will  be  to  you 
again  all  that  he  was  in  his  prime.  A  day  scarcely  passes 
without  my  seeing  him  as  he  was  that  evening  in  the 
sunset,  saving  a  young  man's  life  on  the  beach  at 
Windyhaugh." 

Again  that  unwilling  sob  broke  out.  "  If  it  were 
pain  he  were  enduring,"  she  said,  "  I  could  bear  it ;  and 
he  did  suffer  at  first,  but  even  then — I  don't  know  how 
to  say  it — he  had  not  moral  nature  enough  to  turn  it 
to  any  account.  What  hurts  me,  too,  is  that  I  never 
got  a  chance  to  tell  him  what — what  an  education  he  was 
to  me  always.  When  he  asked  me  to  leave  my  work  and 
go  away  with  him — how  niggardly  I  was! — how  I 
grudged  the  sacrifice !  " 

"  Yet  you  went.  You  have  borne  your  burden  nobly." 
She  winced.  "  Don't !  You  don't  know  me." 


400  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Then  suppose  you  enlighten  me." 

For  a  moment  she  was  tempted  to  confide  in  him; 
but  she  still  felt  the  aura  of  the  death-chamber,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  she  never  could  yield  to  temptation  again. 
"  Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead !  " 

Next  day  Mr.  Carmichael  did  what  he  had  often  felt 
it  his  duty  to  do  before — wrote  a  long  account  to  Brent- 
wood  of  what  Wilhelmina  was  enduring.  "  She  wishes 
her  friends  to  think  she  is  merely  nursing  her  father 
through  an  ordinary  illness,"  he  said,  "  and  it  is  with 
implicit  confidence  in  your  tact  that  I  tell  you  all  these 
details.  The  strain  is  telling  on  her  sorely.  I  am  afraid 
she  even  takes  refuge  in  morphia  sometimes,  and  God 
knows  it  is  little  wonder !  " 

Brentwood  received  the  letter  in  due  course,  and  by 
the  same  mail  came  one  from  Miss  Evelyn,  informing 
him  that  a  London  manager  had  accepted  his  play;  but 
this  news,  for  which  at  one  time  he  would  have  given  so 
much,  scarcely  affected  him  at  all. 

Wilhelmina — strenuous,  puritan,  buoyant  Wilhel- 
mina— was  flagging  by  the  way,  and  he  was  separated 
from  her  by  the  whole  width  of  the  world ! 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 
BRENTWOOD'S  RETURN. 

IT  was  George  Galbraith's  funeral  day. 

Eergus  Dalrymple  and  Gavin  did  not  return  to  Win- 
dyhaugh  after  the  ceremony  was  over.  Men  in  the 
prime  of  health  and  strength  might  well  be  glad  to  es- 
cape from  the  dreary  place;  but  father  and  son  alike 
had  been  very  kind  to  Wilhelmina.  Gavin  was  shocked 
to  see  the  change  in  her.  "  You  must  come  and  pay  us 
a  long  visit  now,"  Fergus  had  said.  "  Your  Aunt  Enid 
will  write." 


I 
BRENTWOOD'S  RETURN.  401 

Wilhelmina  smiled  faintly.  She  had  heard  that  re- 
mark before. 

Brentwood  had  been  at  the  funeral  too.  He  had  ar- 
rived in  England  just  in  time.  Wilhelmina  had  not  ex- 
pected him,  but  she  received  him  very  simply,  without 
any  appearance  of  emotion. 

And  now  it  was  all  over. 

She  sat  in  the  old  summer-house  at  the  foot  of  the 
garden,  too  weary  to  think  or  feel.  The  river  was 
shrouded  in  mist  to-day;  everything  seemed  in  keeping 
with  the  greyness  of  human  life. 

A  step  on  the  gravel  roused  her. 

"  May  I  come  and  sit  with  you  ?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes  with  a  quiet  sad  smile.     "Yes." 

The  roses  had  been  dashed  with  the  rain  of  the  night 
before,  and  the  breath  of  autumn  was  in  the  air.  What 
a  contrast  to  that  glorious  summer  afternoon  five  years 
ago! 

Brentwood  turned  to  look  at  his  companion. 

She  was  sitting  in  the  same  attitude  now  as  then, 
leaning  back  wearily,  but  her  weariness  then  was  the 
momentary  lassitude  of  youth  and  life;  now 

How  pale  she  was,  how  worn,  how  sad !  The  merci- 
less light  fell  full  on  her  face,  but  she  made  no  effort 
to  ward  it  off.  Was  the  womanhood  dead  within  her? 
She  had  not  ordered  new  mourning,  and  the  shabby 
black  gown  fell  full  about  her  shoulders.  What  a  con- 
trast to  the  bluebell  in  her  physical  prime ! — to  the  vivid 
young  student  with  her  wealth  of  heart  and  mind ! 

And  then,  as  Harley  looked,  a  strange  thing  hap- 
pened. In  spite  of  his  instinctive  jealousy,  in  spite  of 
Miss  Evelyn's  kindly  plans,  the  beautiful  Cenci,  with  her 
chorus  of  admirers,  had  left  him  cold.  As  he  looked  at 
this  weary  solitary  woman  who  sat  by  his  side  so  trust- 
fully, with  all  the  pretty  defences  of  her  sex  laid  down, 
his  heart  leaped  within  him.  Already  he  respected,  ad- 
mired her  more  than  enough.  Now  glamour — glamour 
sprang  up,  and  took  his  eyes  by  storm.  Was  she  tram- 
pled in  the  dust  ?  She  was  more  to  him  than  any  queen 
on  the  throne.  Plain — she  was  all-glorious.  Solitary 
and  unsought-for — she  was  the  desire  of  his  eyes,  the 


402  WINDYHAUGH. 

joy  of  his  heart,  the  one  woman  who  lived  on  all  God's 
earth. 

The  conviction  went  surging  through  his  veins  like 
some  wonderful  Eastern  drug.  It  made  his  head  swim, 
his  heart  turn  faint.  He  trembled  so  that  he  dared  not 
lift  his  hand,  dared  not  trust  his  voice.  And  yet  he 
must  speak,  for  the  waves  of  passion  th#t  shook  him  did 
not  so  much  as  ripple  the  hem  of  her  garment. 

"  Vilma!  "  he  said  at  last. 

She  opened  her  eyes,  wondering. 

His  face  was  revelation  enough.  No  woman  on  earth 
need  have  asked  what  he  meant — least  of  all  poor  Wil- 
helmina  with  all  the  coquetry  burnt  out  of  her. 

"Harley!"  she  said  in  a  low  thrilling  voice.  She 
glanced  down  at  her  shabby  gown.  "  Oh,  you  are  a  good 
fellow!" 

The  tears  rose  to  her  eyes,  but  she  spoke  as  though 
she  were  holding  out  her  hand  to  him  across  the  river 
of  death. 

He  drew  closer  to  her;  she  could  feel  him  tremble 
now;  and  for  a  time  they  sat  in  silence. 

"  Thank  you,  dear,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Of  course  it 
can  never  be  now;  and  yet — you  are  very  good.  You 
have  taken  away  such  an  old  sting.  If  only  I  had  kept 
myself  worthy  of  your  love !  " 

He  flushed  hotly.  "Worthy — you!  Don't  mock  me, 
Vilma." 

But  she  nodded  quietly.  "I  always  meant  to  be  a 
good  woman,  and  I  have  been  so  weak  and  wicked. 
Look.  Do  you  know  what  that  means  ? "  She  unfas- 
tened her  sleeve  at  the  wrist  and  drew  it  up. 

He  stooped  and  kissed  the  white  arm  passionately, 
but  there  was  no  thrill  of  response  as  there  had  been  that 
night  on  the  terrace  to  the  mere  touch  of  his  hand. 

"Wicked?"  he  said.  "Oh,  white-souled  Vilma,  is 
that  your  notion  of  being  wicked?  Poor  little  girl, 
strained  beyond  even  her  endurance !  "  He  laughed. 
"  I  have  no  doubt  it  was  the  best  thing  you  could  do,"  he 
said  cheerfully.  "  You  never  could  have  stood  it  with- 
out something  to  oil  the  wheels  of  life  a  little  bit." 

But  her  face  showed  no  comfort,  only  disappoint- 


BRENTWOOD'S  RETURN.  403 

ment,  and  he  saw  that  he  was  on  the  wrong  tack. 
"  Don't,  Harley !  It  was  a  sin  for  me.  I  held  it  as 
one  all  along,  yet  often  I  yielded.  Call  it  by  its  name 
— and  help  me !  " 

"  But  the  temptation  is  gone  now,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  quickly,  emphatically. 

"  It  will  go,  I  am  sure,  when  you  are  a  little  stronger. 
But  I  am  sure,  too,  that  you  will  be  brave,  and  conquer 
before  the  reinforcements  arrive." 

She  smiled  now,  though  sadly,  and  put  her  hand  in 
his,  as  his  sister  might  have  done.  "  I  think  the  rein- 
forcements have  come,"  she  said  simply. 

Again  there  was  a  long  silence.  "  I  might  well  be 
loath  to  make  it  a  sin,  dear,"  Harley  said  at  last.  " '  If 
the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved,  where  shall  the  ungodly 
and  the  sinner  appear  ? '  Of  course  I  never  was  your 
mate.  It  made  me  angry  when  Miss  Evelyn  and  the 

others  kept  throwing  that  in  my  teeth;  but  now ! 

Give  me  a  motive,  Vilma!  Saint  Vilma!  Let  us  share 
each  other's  burdens !  " 

Her  voice  broke  into  a  low  cry.  "  Oh,  my  dear,  my 
dear,  the  might  have  been !  " 

"  Nay,"  he  said,  "  the  shall  be.  We  have  wasted  time 
enough." 

"  Too  much !  "  she  said.  "  Five  years !  It  was  all  we 
had.  I  don't  complain.  I  made  my  choice.  I  have  had 
my  pennyworth  and — I  have  spent  my  penny!  Do  you 
know  how  long  I  have  got  to  live  ?  " 

A  great  fear  turned  his  lips  white.  Was  there  some- 
thing more  than  strain  and  weariness  behind  that  pale 
worn  face? 

An  almost  imperceptible  dew  rose  to  her  forehead. 
"  I  thought  I  should  never  tell  anyone,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
good  of  you  to  make  it  possible  to  tell  you.  I  suppose  I 
shall  be  dead  in  a  couple  of  years,  and  of  life — real  life — 
I  have  only  got  a  very  few  months." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  He  spoke  peremptorily,  but  his  voice 
shook. 

"  It  is  too  awful.  You  see  how  thin  I  have  grown. 
You  see  how  my  lips  tremble  when  I  speak.  If  you  asked 
me  to  turn  in  that  narrow  walk,  I  couldn't  do  it.  I 


404  WINDYHAUGH. 

should  have  to  make  a  big  circuit.  If  you  asked  me  to 
say  a  long  word,  I  should  stumble  over  it.  They  are  all 
the  symptoms  that  my  father  had." 

Harley  gave  a  great  shout  of  relief.  "  Oh,  Vilma, 
my  darling,  my  poor,  poor  little  girl !  What  fools  these 
doctors  are!  Thank  God  you  have  told  me.  Why, 
sweetheart,  you  might  just  as  well  have  yellow  fever 
here  at  Windyhaugh;  you  might  as  well  have  the  Black 
Death,  or — or  delirium  tremens — as  the  disease  your  fa- 
ther had!  Why,  my  own  silly  darling,  you  are  nervous 
and  worn  out.  You  want  me  to  take  care  of  you — that 
is  all." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  as  if  she  had  been  a  child, 
and  bent  over  her,  murmuring  the  childlike  ridiculous 
language  of  love.  To  think  that  the  self-conscious  Har- 
ley Brentwood  should  have  come  to  this ! 

As  he  watched  the  look  of  relief  steal  over  her  face  he 
felt  as  if  he  had  never  known  what  happiness  meant  till 
now.  Then  his  wooing  grew  urgent,  passionate,  and  she 
drew  herself  out  of  his  arms. 

"  You  have  taken  such  a  load  off  my  mind,"  she  said. 
"  I  could  not  face  that  living  death — and  yet  he  had  to 
face  it!  I  thank  God  on  my  knees  for  what  you  have 
told  me.  But  even  now — what  have  I  to  do  with  love? 
I  am  a  worn-out  wreck — as  old  as  the  wandering  Jew." 

"  You  are  so  good,  so  clever,  Vilma,"  he  said,  "  that  it 
is  very  difficult  for  you  not  to  be  proud." 

"  Have  I  been  proud  with  you  to-day  ?  " 

"You  are  very  proud  now.  We  won't  argue  as  to 
what  you  are.  Let  it  be,  if  you  will,  a  worn-out  wreck. 
Then  all  I  can  say  is  that  a  worn-out  wreck  is  the  thing 
I  need  to  complete  my  life.  Let  us  say  you  are  nervous 
— silly — over-strained — I  want  you  all  the  more  for  that. 
I  want  you  to  come  to  me  as  you  are,  to  lay  down  your 
pride  and  let  yourself  go.  Can't  you  trust  me  enough 
for  that?" 

There  was  a  fine  light  of  gratitude  in  her  eyes. 
"  Nay,  dear,"  she  said,  "  only  death — not  love  nor  life — 
has  a  right  to  woo  like  that.  Marriage  is  not  an  end. 
It  is  a  great  beginning.  Of  all  others  it  is  the  burden 
one  should  take  up  strongly  and  joyously.  I  am  ill  and 


BRENTWOOD'S  RETURN.  405 

tired.  Thank  God  it  is  not  that!  But  I  have  suffered 
so  long.  Nobody  can  say  whether  I  shall  ever  be  strong 
and  joyous  again.  We  must  wait.  Even  now  when  you 
have  been  so  good — so  good — when  my  heart  is  so  full  of 
thankfulness — I  feel  so — cold!  Even  when  you" — she 
faltered,  but  went  on  steadily — "  when  you  took  me  in 
your  arms — my  pulses  did  not  leap  as  they  did  long  ago 
when  you  just — touched — my  hand." 

Harley's  sigh  was  almost  a  groan.  "  Then  at  least 
let  me  come  and  see  you  every  day." 

She  shook  her  head.  "Don't  think  me  perverse, 
dear;  but,  if  you  came  to  see  me  every  day,  I  should 
watch  myself  constantly  for  your  sake  as  well  as  my  own. 
You  say  well  that  I  am  nervous  and  silly,  but  you  haven't 
the  least  conception  how  nervous  and  silly  I  am.  I  must 
try  to  get  out  of  myself  altogether." 

"  Then  promise  to  go  right  away  from  here,  to  new 
surroundings  that  will  give  you  a  fresh  start." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't." 

He  took  her  face  in  his  hands,  and  turned  it  to  him. 
"  I  am  very  longsuffering,  Vilma,  but  is  that  perversity, 
or  isn't  it  ?  " 

The  imprisoned  face  flushed  scarlet.  "  I  have  scarce- 
ly a  penny  in  the  house,"  she  said  with  trembling  lips; 
"  and  the  bills " 

He  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  "  At  last  you  throw 
a  crumb  to  a  starving  wretch !  Money  is  very  plentiful 
with  me  just  now,  dear.  Will  you  remember  that,  and 
use  it  as  if  it  were  your  own  ?  "  He  took  a  cheque-book 
from  his  pocket.  "  Promise  to  go  right  away  to  the 
country,  and  spend  without  scruple." 

"  Thank  you." 

"  Promise ! " 

"  I  do  promise,"  she  said  simply. 

"  Oh,  Vilma,  if  you  had  only  asked  me  before ! " 

"  How  could  I,  dear  ?  "  she  said.  "  It  was  very  bitter 
having  to  spend  what  you  gave  me.  Things  are  different 
now." 

"Yes,  thank  God!  Things  are  very  different 
now.  He  is  a  poor  old  fellow,  Vilma.  Love  him  a 
little." 


406  WINDYHAUGH. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Brentwood  started 
for  Queensmains.  He  was  very  unwilling  to  leave  Wil- 
helmina;  for  he  could  see  that,  with  the  shadows  of 
night,  a  great  cloud  of  depression  was  settling  down  on 
her.  "  Leave  me  to  fight  it  out  by  myself,"  she  had 
pleaded ;  but,  before  he  was  a  mile  away  from  the  house, 
he  found  himself  regretting  bitterly  that  he  had 
yielded.  The  feeling  became  so  strong  that  at  last  he 
turned,  and  ran  back  most  of  the  way  to  Windy- 
haugh. 

When  he  reached  the  lonely  old  homestead,  it  was 
dark.  A  light  burned  in  what  had  been  the  sick-room, 
but  the  blinds  were  not  drawn  down,  and,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  window,  he  could  see  Wilhelmina  pacing 
restlessly  to  and  fro.  At  last  she  paused  resolutely,  and, 
taking  a  tiny  phial  and  case  from  the  shelf,  she  left  the 
room.  The  front  door  was  not  locked,  and,  without  even 
stopping  to  think,  Harley  followed  her  upstairs.  The 
door  of  her  room  was  ajar,  and  the  light  of  a  candle 
guided  him  to  the  threshold.  His  heart  was  too  full  of 
loving  solicitude  for  him  to  realize  that  he  was  doing  a 
dishonourable  thing.  He  only  knew  that  a  sore  strug- 
gle was  going  on,  and  that  he  had  come  in  time  to  help. 
Had  she  not  asked  his  help  ?  How  sweet  to  feel  this  new 
dependence  of  hers! 

Wilhelmina's  back  was  turned  to  him,  but  he  saw  her 
fill  the  syringe  with  trembling  hands.  He  took  a  step 
forward  and  would  have  spoken,  but  at  that  moment  she 
threw  herself  on  her  knees. 

Then,  seething,  eddying,  molten-hot,  the  words  surged 
forth — 

"  Great  God,  who  either  art  not  at  all,  or  who  art  in 
all  things,  even  in  me — ~be  in  me  with  all  my  will! 
Penetrate  into  the  farthest  fibre  of  my  being,  and,  when 
Thou  art  there,  by  the  heat  of  Thy  righteousness  burn 
— everything  that  is  not  Thee.  I  shall  shrink  and  cry 
out  and  draw  back,  but  do  Thou  keep  hold  until  Thy 
work  is  done,  and  I  am — Thee!  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  a  little  jet  of 
fluid  rose  from  the  syringe  into  the  air.  The  struggle 
was  over. 


AFTER  LONG  GRIEF  AND  PAIN.  4QT 

Harley  had  never  felt  so  guilty  in  his  life.  He  crept 
downstairs  like  a  thief,  and  ran  as  if  for  dear  life.  Wil- 
helmina  was  safe  for  that  night. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

AFTER   LONG   GRIEF   AND   PAIN. 

I  THINK  Wilhelmina's  friends  profited  ever  after  by 
that  tussle  of  hers  with  what  she  believed  to  be  mortal 
sin,  but  she  never  could  take  any  credit  to  herself  for 
the  victory.  It  seemed  as  if  suddenly  everything  con- 
spired to  help  her. 

Two  days  after  the  funeral  she  received  a  long  and 
cordial  letter  from  Honor,  begging  her  to  come  to  a  quiet 
little  country  inn  many  miles  from  the  nearest  station. 
Of  course  Wilhelmina  knew  that  the  proposal  had  origi- 
nated with  Harley,  but  she  trusted  both  brother  and  sis- 
ter too  deeply  to  ask  any  questions.  She  accepted  gladly. 
She  had  been  idealizing  Honor  for  five  strenuous  years. 
Now  she  would  really  learn  to  know  her.  Honor  little 
guessed  the  heights  to  which  she  was  expected  to  attain ! 
Wilhelmina's  letter  of  acceptance  was  scarcely  written 
when  Mr.  Macintyre  was  announced.  His  shrewd  busi- 
ness-like face  beamed  with  gratification.  "  I  am  the 
bearer  of  good  news  at  last,"  he  said.  "  I  find  from  Mr. 
Darsie's  will  that  he  has  left  you  his  sole  heir.  I  thought 
it  better  to  make  full  enquiries  before  speaking  to  you. 
His  money  is  admirably  invested.  You  cannot  do  better 
than  leave  it  where  it  is.  It  will  bring  you  an  income 
of  about  two  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  a  year." 

Wilhelmina  thought  she  must  be  dreaming.  "  But  he 
was  poor,"  she  said. 

The  lawyer  rubbed  his  hands.  "  So  he  was  to  all 
practical  purposes — and  you  are  the  gainer." 

"  If  only  I  had  done  something  for  him !  "  she  said  re- 
gretfully. 

"  I  think  you  did  a  good  deal.    He  was  never  tired  of 


408  WINDYHAUGH. 

talking  of  that  visit  to  you  in  London.  You  were  a 
never-failing  subject  of  interest — and  I  think  I  may  say 
of  joy — to  the  old  man.  Heigho!  Queensmains  won't 
be  the  same  place  without  him.  You  will  realize  later 
on  how  much  this  means,  Miss  Galbraith.  I  hope  you 
won't  think  me  ungallant  when  I  say 'that  few  things 
make  so  much  difference  in  a  woman  as  the  possession 
of  a  cheque-book.  I  don't  know  when  I  have  been  so 
pleased  about  anything  in  my  life." 

Of  course  Harley  took  a  very  different  view  of  that 
will,  but  Honor  was  genuinely  delighted  to  hear  that 
Wilhelmina  was  not  dependent  on  her  brother's  bounty. 
She  soon  foresaw  that  a  capitulation  was  inevitable,  and 
she  wanted  Wilhelmina  to  hold  her  own  to  the  last. 

I  don't  know  which  of  those  two  women  enjoyed  that 
meeting  the  more.  Wilhelmina  always  looked  upon 
Honor  as  a  being  much  wiser  and  better  than  herself; 
but,  after  their  first  day  of  life  in  common,  Honor  cer- 
tainly never  thought  so.  "  It  gives  me  a  lump  in  the 
throat  to  look  at  her,"  she  wrote  to  her  brother.  "  How- 
ever mistakenly,  she  has  surely  scaled  the  '  toppling 
crags.'  When  the  mists  of  physical  depression  clear 
away,  she  must  find  herself  on 

"  '  the  shining  tahle-lands, 
To  which  our  God  himself  is  moon  and  sun.'  " 

Honor  could  only  allow  herself  a  month's  holiday — 
she  had  almost  as  many  interests  in  life  as  Mr.  Ellis  him- 
self— but  it  was  May  of  the  next  year  when  Wilhelmina 
returned  to  town. 

It  was  a  strange  experience  to  find  herself  in  London 
again,  stranger  still  to  be  in  London  without  worries, 
without  work,  and  with  sufficient  money  to  live  in  quiet 
comfort.  How  little  changed  other  people  were!  And 
she — she  felt  as  if  she  had  been  away  for  a  hundred 
years. 

Four  points  of  contact  she  had  with  the  mighty  city 
— the  quakeress,  Miss  Evelyn,  Mr.  Ellis,  and  Mrs.  Dal- 
rymple.  By  means  of  the  four  she  pegged  out  a  spiritual 
tent  sufficiently  roomy  for  her  own  free  life  and  expan- 
sion. Of  course  she  had  to  a  great  extent  dropped  out 


AFTER  LONG  GKIEF  AND  PAIN.  409 

of  their  lives,  but  now  that  she  really  appeared  among 
them  in  the  flesh  once  more,  she  received  a  welcome  that 
warmed  her  heart. 

Miss  Evelyn  had  returned  to  the  stage  some  time 
before. 

"  I  never  was  so  thankful  in  my  life,"  she  said,  "  as 
when  I  heard  it  was  all  over.  Now  we  have  got  our  old 
ideal  back  again." 

"  Yes,"  said  Wilhelmina  dreamily ;  "  or  it  will  come. 
I  can't  trust  myself  yet  to  go  to  sleep  without  seeing 
him — as  you  saw  him  that  day.  You  must  come  and 
pay  Windyhaugh  a  long  visit  under  happier  auspices." 

The  quakeress  was  now  a  successful  and  enthusiastic 
schoolmistress  in  receipt  of  an  excellent  salary.  She 
worked  hard,  lived  sparely,  dressed  in  the  most  uncom- 
promising fashion,  and  educated  two  young  brothers. 
The  simple  elegance  of  Wilhelmina's  black  gown  was  a 
barrier  between  them  at  first,  but  Miss  Burnet  soon  for- 
got all  about  the  dress.  "  I  have  often  thought,"  she 
said,  "  of  how  you  gave  up  everything  to  go  away  with 
your  father.  With  your  prospects,  I  could  not  have  done 
it.  I  am  sure  God  must  have  rewarded  you." 

Wilhelmina  did  not  answer.  The  reward  would  have 
been  less  real  if  she  had  been  aware  of  having  received  it. 

"  And  now  that  you  are  free,  you  will  do  great  things 
yet." 

"  Oh,  no.  Never  now.  I  have  learnt  my  own  meas- 
ure." 

"Don't,  dear!  You  have  not  forgotten  your  old 
ideals?" 

"  No,"  Wilhelmina  smiled.  "  I  remember  I  wanted 
to  save  mankind,  but  the  process  has  been  reversed.  It 
has  always  been  other  people  who  have  taught  me,  helped 
me,  saved  me.  All  one  can  really  do  is  to  walk  humbly 
and  unselfishly,  striving  to  see  God  in  other  men,  to 
feel  God  in  oneself." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  "  Even  that,"  the  quaker- 
ess  said  at  length,  "  is  a  good  deal." 

Mr.  Ellis  could  scarcely  believe  that  this  full-grown 


410  WINDYHAUGH. 

woman  was  his  little  Wilhelmina.  She  seemed  to  him 
quite  five  years  older  than  her  age.  The  "  phantom  of 
delight "  had  given  place  to 

"  The  Being  breathing  thoughtful  breath, 
The  traveller  between  life  and  death." 

He  led  her  on  to  tell  him  more  about  her  life  of  the 
last  few  years  than  she  had  told  anyone  before.  "  When 
I  was  so  weak  and  depressed,"  she  said,  "  and  thought  it 
was  all  over  with  me,  how  I  wished  I  could  sit  in  this 
dear  old  library  again,  and  just  say,  Thank  you!" 

He  turned  away  his  head.  "  You  are  very  generous," 
he  said,  "  to  a  narrow-minded  old  man.  Can  you  stay 
and  dine  with  us?  I  want  you  to  be  the  friend  of  my 
little  girls." 

But  it  was  Mrs.  Dalrymple's  reception  that  surprised 
Wilhelmina  most. 

"  You  shall  simply  take  off  your  hat  and  stay,"  Enid 
said  emphatically.  "  Pearson  shall  go  and  pack  your 
things.  You  will  find  us  dreadfully  frivolous,  of  course." 

Wilhelmina  laughed.  "  I  cannot  come  just  now,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  think  I  must  accept  your  invitation  by-and- 
bye  if  only  to  convince  you  that  the  censor  in  me  is  dead. 
Looking  back  on  my  life,  I  really  don't  know  which 
have  helped  me  the  more — the  saints  or  the  sinners. 
How  is  Hugh?" 

Enid  smiled.  "  Is  that  apropos  of  the  saints  or  the 
sinners?  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  He  tells  me  that 
after  a  long  period  of  backsliding  he  has  returned  to  the 
fold.  I  never  expected  this  phase  to  last." 

"It  may  last  yet,"  Wilhelmina  said,  but  she  felt  a 
little  uneasy.  Hugh's  was  not  the  nature  that  could 
safely  indulge  in  a  long  period  of  backsliding. 

Daily  she  looked  out  for  some  sign  from  her  hus- 
band ;  but  Harley — though  of  course  he  knew  she  was  in 
London — did  not  come.  His  play  was  to  be  produced  in 
a  few  days,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Miss  Evelyn,  the  actors  did  worse  at  every 
rehearsal.  He  had  taken  a  cottage  at  Richmond,  too, 


AFTER  LONG  GRIEF  AND  PAIN.  41 1 

and  was  busy  weeding  out  the  furniture,  and  introducing 
lamps,  pictures,  arm-chairs,  books — making  of  the  place 
an  ideal  little  home. 

He  first  saw  Wilhelmina  at  a  concert  in  the  Queen's 
Hall.  It  was  a  wonderful  concert,  and  a  smart  social 
function.  Everybody  was  there,  and  the  whole  place  was 
en  fete. 

Everybody  was  there,  and  the  music  was  entrancing; 
but  Harley  was  only  aware  of  the  presence  of  one  wom- 
an; the  music  scarcely  reached  his  consciousness;  it 
formed  a  soft  harmonious  background  to  his  dreams. 
Wilhelmina  did  not  see  him,  and  of  course  he  did  not 
speak  to  her.  Oh,  no !  He  had  waited  for  his  happiness 
long  enough.  He  approached  it  now  in  the  spirit  of  an 
epicure;  he  played  with  it  as  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse. 
For  this  first  evening  it  was  quite  enough  just  to  look 
at  her.  And  how  he  looked ! — feasting  his  eyes  on  every 
curve,  every  gesture,  every  glance.  And  to  think  that 
she  was  his  by  right — his  very  own !  He  tried  to  imagine 
how  she  would  impress  him  if  he  met  her  now  for  the 
first  time — or  how  he  would  impress  her — and  he  felt 
very  glad  of  the  tie  that  already  linked  them  indissolubly 
— he  felt  very  grateful  to  George  Galbraith. 

A  week  later  they  met  at  somebody's  crush.  This 
time  she  saw  him,  she  even  caught  his  eye,  but,  instead 
of  bowing,  she  glanced  away  again  with  odd  girlish  shy- 
ness. A  moment  later  she  was  ashamed  of  her  gaucherie, 
but  of  course  it  enchanted  him:  it  was  so  unlike  the 
woman  he  had  watched  at  the  concert  a  week  before.  He 
saw  her  face  turn  white  to  the  lips,  and  then — a  knot 
of  people  drifted  in  between  them.  ' 

Coming  out  of  the  music-room,  she  was  separated  for 
a  moment  from  Mrs.  Dalrymple,  and  she  suddenly  be- 
came aware  that  Harley  was  by  her  side.  His  sleeve  was 
touching  her  arm.  She  could  not  speak,  and  it  seemed 
at  first  as  if  he  could  not.  How  ridiculous  it  all  was! 
Simply  to  relieve  the  tension  of  the  situation,  Wilhel- 
mina made  a  little  movement  to  overtake  her  aunt,  and 
then  Brentwood  bent  low. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well,"  he  said  quiet- 
ly, without  preamble. 
27 


412  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  quite  strong  now."  How  calmly 
she  had  contrived  to  speak ! 

"And  joyous?"  The  words  were  uttered  in  a  tone 
scarcely  above  a  whisper,  but  they  brought  a  fiery  wave 
to  her  white  face  and  neck.  How  humiliating  to  blush ! 
Young  girls  are  the  lawful  prey  of  that  dread  enemy. 
By  what  bold  miscalculation  had  it  attacked  a  mature 
woman  like  herself? 

At  that  moment  Enid  looked  round,  and  Wilhelmina 
joined  her. 

Next  morning  Honor  called. 

"  Well,  dear,"  she  said.  "  It  is  good  to  see  the  life 
in  your  face  once  more." 

"  I  took  a  long  rest,  didn't  I? " 

"  You  did  indeed.  I  began  to  think  you  had  given  all 
your  old  friends  the  slip.  I  have  run  up  to  see  Harley's 
play.  Have  you  seen  that  it  is  proving  quite  a  success  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  haven't  seen  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no." 

"It  is  not  eternal,  you  know."  Honor  laughed.  "But 
I  can't  help  liking  it  very  much.  It  is  extraordinary 
how  the  public  taste  has  changed.  Of  course  the  heroine 
is  as  much  Miss  Evelyn's  creation  as  Harley's." 

"  Hagar  ?    Yes,  they  all  say  she  is  very  fine." 

"  Do  you  care  to  come  with  me  to-night  ?  I  have 
a  box." 

"  Thank  you.     I  should  like  to  come  very  much." 

When  evening  came,  Wilhelmina  dressed  with  ex- 
traordinary care.  She  was  very  pale,  but  her  eyes  shone 
brilliantly.  Honor  was  almost  more  nervous  than  she 
was. 

Assuredly  the  play  was  not  eternal,  but  it  had  taken 
the  fancy  of  London  for  the  time,  the  house  was  well- 
filled,  and  everything  promised  a  long  run.  To  Wilhel- 
mina the  drama  seemed  amazingly  clever.  This  was  her 
first  experience  of  the  problem  play,  and  it  appealed  to 
her  keenly.  After  the  first  act  she  was  quite  carried 
away,  and,  from  behind  the  scenes,  Harley  watched  her 


AFTER  LONG  GRIEF  AND  PAIN.  413 

eager  face.  She  constituted  the  audience  for  him  that 
night;  and  she  could  not  have  looked  more  triumphant 
if  the  play  had  been  her  own. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  last  act  she  became  aware  that 
he  had  entered  the  box,  and  was  standing  in  the  shadow 
at  the  back.  Honor  nodded  to  him  brightly,  but  Wil- 
helmina  did  not  turn  her  head.  She  was  very  pale  again 
— almost  as  pale  as  Harley  himself. 

The  curtain  fell,  and,  as  the  actors  came  forward  to 
receive  their  meed  of  applause,  Harley  came  up  to  her 
side.  She  glanced  quickly  round.  Honor  had  disap- 
peared. 

The  house  was  full  of  noise,  but  these  two  were  con- 
scious only  of  an  overwhelming  silence.  They  heard 
nothing  save  the  beating  of  their  own  hearts. 

During  the  day  Harley  had  thought  of  many  things 
that  it  behoved  him  to  say,  but  now  he  took  her  cloak 
and  held  it  up  without  a  word.  He  had  made  no  definite 
plans,  but,  as  their  eyes  met,  they  knew  that  they  were 
not  going  to  part  any  more. 

"  It  is  a  long  drive,"  he  said  huskily.  "  Shall  you  be 
warm  enough  ? " 

But  she  did  not  answer  at  all. 

A  tumult  of  applause  filled  the  theatre.  Miss  Evelyn, 
bowing  in  response  to  the  ovation,  looked  up  eagerly  at 
their  box,  but  they  did  not  turn  their  heads.  They  did 
not  know  she  was  there. 

Before  she  had  made  her  last  bow,  they  left  the  audi- 
torium, and  went  downstairs. 

A  few  minutes  later  Harley  closed  the  door  of  the 
hired  carriage,  and  they  rolled  off  into  the  night. 

And  then?  Did  they  talk  of  the  sorrows  and  mis- 
understandings of  the  long  years  ?  Nay,  verily.  Mother 
Nature  took  care  of  that.  The  time  was  past  for  vows 
and  explanations,  even  as  it  was  past  for  marriage  bells 
and  documents,  for  forms  and  ceremonies,  for  curious 
eyes  and  jesting  lips.  The  very  time  for  words  of  love 
was  past.  Here  were  two  living  thrilling  human  souls, 
old  yet  young,  bound  yet  free,  alone  on  God's  great  earth. 


414:  WINDYHAUGH. 

CHAPTER  LX. 

THE   CYCLE   IS   COMPLETE. 

THE  children  lay  stretched  full  length  in  the  hay-field, 
like  kittens  momentarily  exhausted  with  a  romp. 

"Let's  pretend "  said  Wilhelmina  dreamily  at 

last. 

Has  time's  wheel  run  back  ? — or  is  the  cycle  complete  ? 

Even  so.  The  cycle  is  complete.  Wilhelmina  the 
Second  is  a  fascinating  witch,  but  she  is  not  much  con- 
cerned about  her  soul.  I  am  afraid  she  is  not  even  on 
bowing  terms  with  the  successful  young  grocer,  though 
he  has  rebuilt  the  grimy  old  shop,  and  has  fitted  it  up 
with  "  every  modern  improvement."  What  with  rabbits 
to  be  fed,  and  plants  to  be  watered,  and  a  great  family 
of  dolls  to  be  put  to  bed  every  night,  life  really  is  a  very 
busy  and  responsible  thing. 

Wilhelmina's  small  brother,  George  the  Second,  is 
not  a  very  interesting  playmate  at  present.  Uncle  Gavin 
has  just  got  his  company,  and  George  can  play  at  noth- 
ing but  soldiers.  He  has  a  thousand  questions  to  ask 
Uncle  Gavin  when  that  wonderful  being  brings  Aunt 
Daisy  to  Windyhaugh  next  month. 

Fortunately  Wilhelmina  the  Second  is  not  shut  up  to 
George's  company  just  now.  Mr.  Ellis'  two  tall  girls  are 
kindly  willing  to  lay  aside  the  dignity  of  their  years, 
and  join  in  many  a  frolic. 

Mr.  Ellis  himself  is  seated  some  distance  off  with 
Harley  and  Wilhelmina  the  Eirst.  Mr.  Carmichael  has 
just  joined  the  party,  and  Mr.  Ellis  is  reading  aloud  from 
a  book  he  has  brought  from  London. 

"  '  Yet  Faith,  ofttimes  He  taught, 
Was  nowise  bare  believing ;  since  belief 
Comes  hard  or  easy  as  minds  go.  .  .  . 
What  Faith  He  asked  of  whoso  entered  in 
The  slave  may  have  in  bondage,  if  he  lifts 
Eyes  of  sad  hope  ;  th'  unlettered  hind  may  have 
Who,  at  his  toil,  hungers  for  better  bread 


THE  CYCLE  IS  COMPLETE.  415 

Than  what  toil  buys ;  the  little  child  may  have 

Content  to  love  and  trust ;  all  souls  shall  have 

Which,  when  the  light  shines,  turn  themselves  to  light 

As  field-flowers  do ;  and,  like  the  flowers  of  the  field, 

Are  glad  of  the  great  sun  for  the  sun's  sajce ; 

And,  being  evil,  are  for  good ;  being  weak, 

Will  give  what  thews  they  own  for  Righteousness, 

Will  lay  what  gifts  they  may  at  Love's  fair  feet, 

And  follow,  with  quick  step  or  slow, — through  faults, 

Through  failures,  through  discomfitures,  through  sins, — 

The  march  of  that  majestic  King  whose  flag, 

Distant  and  dim,  they  hail,  and  with  true  hearts, 

Though  will  be  wilful,  and  though  flesh  be  weak — 

Burn  to  obey.    These  are  Heaven's  men-at-arms 

In  van  or  rear ;  informed  or  ignorant 

Of  whither  battle  rolls,  and  what  shall  prove 

Its  issue ;  and,  for  them,  whether  high  spoils 

Of  Victory  at  last — the  Leader's  eye 

Ware  of  their  wounds — or  some  forgotten  grave 

Where  they  that  gained  Him  glory  sleep  unnamed ; 

Always  to  orders  loyal,  standing  fast 

In  what  post  be  assigned  ;  in  life  and  death 

Eight-minded,  but  not  blameless  ;  loving  God 

With  lowly  heart,  and  earnest  striving  soul 

Which  trusted,  seeing  darkly ;  loving  man 

For  brotherhood,  and  God  that  lives  in  man. 

Such  have  the  Faith,  to  such  is  much  forgiven.'" 

The  reader  paused,  and  looked  round  his  audience. 
Wilhelmina  had  turned  away  her  head. 

Mr.  Carmichael  was  the  first  to  find  words. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  with  contracted  brows,  "  he 
is  defining  a  good  deal  besides  faith." 

Harley  laughed.  "  It  is  a  good  thing  you  said  that, 
not  I,"  he  cried,  glancing  with  loving  eyes  at  his  wife's 
eager  face.  "  Now  that  you  have  committed  the  Church, 
I  may  remark  that  the  definition — with  all  its  beauty — 
did  strike  me  as  resembling  an  old  prescription,  so  full  of 
ingredients  that  it  was  bound  to  bring  down  something." 

"  Mr.  Ellis  takes  my  part,"  Wilhelmina  said  compos- 
edly, smiling  across  to  her  old  friend.  "  Do  you  remem- 
ber the  night  you  taught  me  to  look  at  a  good  thing  for 
what  it  is,  and  not  for  what  it  is  not?  Will  Mr.  Car- 
michael define  faith  ? " 


416  WINDYHAUGH. 

The  minister  shook  his  head.  "I  have  been  trying 
to  define  faith  all  my  life." 

"  Fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread,"  llarley 
remarked  quietly.  "  Is  not  faith  the  power  of  seeing 
life  sub  specie  ceternitatis?  " 

"Good!"  said  Mr.  Ellis. 

"  Bad !  "  said  Wilhelmina,  looking  at  her  husband 
with  appreciative  eyes.  "  What  is  the  use  of  a  definition 
that  only  great  minds  like  our  own  can  understand? 
Harley's  version  wouldn't  go  far  towards  making  a 
poem." 

They  all  laughed. 

"Isn't  that  the  Eyelands  carriage?"  asked  Mr.  Car- 
michael. 

"It  is.  Come,  Harley.  Let  us  meet  them  at  the 
door.  Will  the  Church  honour  us  ?  " 

But  the  Church  elected  to  remain  perdu. 

"  Don't  go,  Muvvy !  "  piped  two  sweet  little  voices  in 
unison. 

Wilhelmina  turned  her  beautiful  mother-face  to 
them.  "Not  for  long,"  she  said.  "I  will  send  Made- 
moiselle. You  must  be  very  gentle  with  her,  you  know." 

Poor  old  Mademoiselle  has  come  to  spend  a  long  holi- 
day at  Windyhaugh.  She  can  scarcely  believe  the  old 
homestead  is  the  place  she  knew  a  quarter  of  a  century 
ago.  For  Windyhaugh  has  entered  on  a  third  phase  of 
existence.  The  old  divines  still  retain  their  place,  but 
the  library  has  grown  to  such  mighty  proportions  that 
these  worthy  ancestors  have  assumed  something  like 
their  true  perspective.  The  house  seems  full  of  sunshine 
and  fresh  air,  of  peace  and  goodwill.  The  one  thing 
Mademoiselle  has  to  fear  is  a  chance  meeting  with  a 
hedgehog  or  an  escaped  caterpillar  on  the  stair.  She  is 
even  beginning  to  take  an  interest  in  natural  history — 
wants  to  know  when  caterpillars  may  reasonably  be  ex- 
pected to  assume  that  much-talked  of  chrysalis  stage! 
Fortunately  the  children  are  prepared  to  give  her  any 
amount  of  information.  They  have  long  chats  with 
their  mother  about  animals  and  plants;  and  indeed  it 
was  after  listening  to  one  of  these  talks,  that  Harley 
finally  committed  to  the  flames  his  manuscript  Ethics  of 


THE  CYCLE  IS  COMPLETE.  417 

Lower  Life.  Times  have  changed ;  he  can  afford  to  burn 
a  manuscript  now. 

The  beautiful  stables  are  rather  thrown  away  on  one 
good  roadster  and  two  shaggy  ponies,  but  the  billiard- 
room  is  in  great  demand.  The  river  is  an  ocean  once 
more;  the  grim  old  shrubbery  a  primeval  forest,  but  its 
recesses  are  often  enlivened  by  the  shriek  of  Red  In- 
dians and  the  roar  of  wild  bears.  Wilhelmina  the  Sec- 
ond thinks  Bunyan  all  very  well  for  Sundays,  but,  for 
sheer  literature,  commend  her  to  the  author  of  The  Dog 
Crusoe !  She  can  scarcely  be  induced  to  bend  her  mighty 
mind  to  the  pronunciation  of  mieux,  but  she  loves  to 
hear  Mademoiselle  tell  of  what  a  noble  gentleman  her 
grandfather  was,  and  to  see  the  lovely  brooch  he  gave 
the  old  lady  in  Paris. 

How  Wilhelmina  the  First  worships  that  child !  How 
she  dreams  about  her  future !  "  She  shall  have  '  wings 
where  I  had  weary  feet ' !  " 

Mr.  Ellis  and  Mr.  Carmichael  were  watching  Harley 
and  Wilhelmina.  It  was  pretty  to  see  them  stroll  off  to- 
gether. 

"  I  think  their  happiness  was  worth  waiting  for,"  Mr. 
Ellis  said  at  last. 

Mr.  Carmichael  did  not  answer  immediately.  "  Per- 
haps. The  question  is,  was  Brentwood  worth  it  all  ? " 

"  If  Brentwood  had  been  worth  it  all  in  the  ordinary 
human  sense  of  the  words,  we  should  never  have  had  our 
Wilhelmina.  I  think  she  had  chosen  more  wisely  than 
women  of  her  calibre  usually  do.  Nature  has  an  ex- 
traordinary love  of  bringing  things  back  to  the  average. 
But  Brentwood  has  real  spiritual  insight." 

"  He  has  an  intellectual  grasp  of  things  spiritual,  at 
least.  I  don't  know  that  it  is  quite  the  same  thing. 
There  is  nothing  so  easy  as  to  convince  a  fine  woman 
that  her  husband  is  her  superior." 

Mr.  Ellis  laughed.  "  I  don't  know  that  you  and  I  are 
the  people  best  qualified  to  pass  an  opinion  on  Brent- 
wood! He  leaves  her  a  wonderfully  free  hand." 

"  Having  no  one  to  be  jealous  of — save  God." 

They  both  fell  a-musing. 


418  WINDYHAUGH. 

"  It  is  interesting  to  see  the  Kyelands  carriage  here," 
Mr.  Ellis  continued  at  last.  "  Does  Mrs.  Berkeley  know 
that  Miss  Evelyn  was  the  last  guest,  and  that  Mrs.  Hugh 
Dalrymple  will  be  the  next — not  to  mention  that  crooked 
little  anarchist,  Dunn  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  long  time  before  the  Ryelands  carriage 
came  here.  Young  Berkeley  was  shot  accidentally  by 
his  brother  two  years  ago,  and  Wilhelmina  had  to  tell 
the  mother."  Mr.  Carmichael  bit  his  lip.  "  That  was 
the  kind  of  crucible  to  bring  out  the  gold  in  both  women. 
Wilhelmina  is  a  real  social  link.  She  takes  care  that 
people  who  don't  want  to  meet  shall  not  meet  under  her 
roof.  For  the  rest,  she  can  do  as  she  likes.  When  you 
come  to  think  of  it — that  is  the  great  tangible  reward  of 
goodness." 

Mr.  Ellis  shook  his  head.  "  Goodness  alone  wrould 
never  achieve  that,"  he  said.  "  It  wants  goodness  plus  a 
real  strength  and  breadth  of  personality.  Miss  Brent- 
wood  was  telling  me  the  other  day  that  Wilhelmina  ought 
to  have  achieved  more,  that  she  had  never  taken  the 
position  to  which  her  gifts  entitled  her.  It  seems  to 
me " 

Mr.  Carmichael  nodded  quickly  and  emphatically,  as 
if  afraid  that  Mr.  Ellis  would  think  it  necessary  to  finish 
his  sentence. 

Perhaps  the  reader  will  agree  with  Honor  Brentwood 
that  Wilh'elmina  ought  to  have  accomplished  more. 

It  is  true  she  achieved  little  as  we  reckon  achieve- 
ment in  these  days.  She  carved  no  statue,  painted  no 
picture,  composed  no  oratorio ;  she  did  not  even  write 
a  book,  nor  take  a  degree;  but  when  all  these  things 
have  been  excluded,  there  remains  that  little  art  of  living 
which  has  been  open  in  all  ages  alike  to  the  wise  and  to 
the  simple. 


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much  power,  and  the  characters  of  Brennan  the  smart  wire-puller,  the  millionaire  Davis, 
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SPOIL  OF  OFFICE.     A    Story   of  the   Modern 
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of  the  scenes  do  homage  to  the  genius  of  Mr.  Parker,  and  make  '  The  Seats  of  the 
Mighty '  one  of  the  books  of  the  year." — Chicago  Record. 

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phia Bulletin. 

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Interest,  pith,  force,  and  charm— Mr.  Parker's  new  story  possesses  all  these 
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—breathlessly."—  The  Critic. 

"  Gilbert  Parker  writes  a  strong  novel,  but  thus  far  this  is  his  masterpiece.  ...  It 
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that  deserves  to  be  widely  read,  for,  while  it  is  of  thrilling  interest,  holding  the  reader  s 
attention  closely,  there  is  about  it  a  literary  quality  that  makes  it  worthy  of  something 
more  than  a  careless  perusal." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

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and  above  all,  in  a  book  by  F61ix  Gras.  .  .  .  The  romance  is  replete  with  interest." — 
A/'ew  York  Times. 

"  There  is  genius  in  the  book.  The  narrative  throbs  with  a  palpitation  of  virile 
force  and  nervous  vigor.  Read  it  as  a  mere  story,  and  it  is  absorbing  beyond  descrip- 
tion. Consider  it  as  a  historical  picture,  .  .  .  and  its  extraordinary  power  and  sig- 
nificance are  apparent." — Philadelphia  Press. 

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HE  REDS  OF  THE  MIDI.  An  Episode  of  the 
French  Revolution.  By  FELIX  GRAS.  Translated  from  the 
Proven?al  by  Mrs.  Catharine  A.  Janvier.  With  an  Introduction 
by  Thomas  A.  Janvier.  With  Frontispiece.  i6mo.  Cloth, 
$1.50. 

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were  good  enough  to  present  to  me.  Though  a  work  of  fiction,  it  aims  at  painting  the 
historical  features,  and  such  works  if  faithfully  executed  throw  more  light  than  many 
so  called  histories  on  the  true  roots  and  causes  of  the  Revolution,  which  are  so  widely 
and  so  gravely  misunderstood.  As  a  novel  it  seems  to  me  to  be  written  with  great 
skill."— William  E.  Gladstone. 

"Patriotism,  a  profound  and  sympathetic  insight  into  the  history  of  a  great  epoch, 
and  a  poet's  delicate  sensitiveness  to  the  beauties  of  form  and  expression  have  com- 
bined to  make  M.  F£lix  Gras's  '  The  Reds  of  the  Midi '  a  work  of  real  literary  value. 
It  is  as  far  as  possible  removed  from  sensationalism;  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  subdued, 
simple,  unassuming,  profoundly  sincere.  Such  artifice  as  the  author  has  found  it 
necessary  to  employ  has  been  carefully  concealed,  and  if  we  feel  its  presence,  it  is  only 
because  experience  has  taught  that  the  quality  is  indispensable  to  a  work  which  affects 
the  imagination  so  promptly  and  with  such  force  as  does  this  quiet  narrative  of  the 
French  Revolution." — New  York  Tribune. 

"  It  is  doubtful  whether  in  the  English  language  we  have  had  a  more  powerful, 
impressive,  artistic  picture  of  the  French  Revolution,  from  the  revolutionist's  point  of 
view,  than  that  presented  in  Felix  Gras's  'The  Reds  of  the  Midi.'  .  .  .  Adventures 
follow  one  another  rapidly  ;  splendid,  brilliant  pictures  are  frequent,  and  the  thread  of 
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AGGIE:    A     GIRL     OF     THE     STREETS. 

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HE  RED  BADGE  OF  COURAGE.     An  Episode 

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THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


)m-l,'69(J5643s8)2373 — 3A,1 


.  _^___,       ttV     II  til 


3  2106  00215  0594 


